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^'P ? 1895 


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Press of 

J. Warren Dickson, 

12 E. 42d St., 

New York. 

Garrett Biblical Institute 

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Story of October, 

: ' Autumn, laying here and there, 
A fiery finger on the leaves. ' ' 
— Whittier. 

WHEN the leaves begin to 
turn and the days grow 
somewhat shorter and colder, 
we realize that our Summer is at 
an encH.and^Qur thoughts '"are turned 
to Ingleside and our school work. 

This year it was the same old 
story again to us old girls. Our 
' ' first mortgage claim ' ' on Ingle- 
side having been well established, 
homesickness is far from our 
thoughts, and in coming back each 




year we simply take possession of "our own." On the 
evening of October second, eighteen ninety-five, Mrs. 
Black was in " the Hall " as usual, to bid us welcome, 
notwithstanding the attractions of her new home on the 
hill ; the fire crackled its cheerful greeting to us ; and, 
as we looked about at the familiar objects there was a 
queer feeling that we had not been away. 

In the Autumn Fields. 

The next day found us, as it has many times before, 
occupied in planning our work for the coming year, 
and in trying to make the new girls feel at home. One 
aid to this result is the usual big bonfire on Hickory 
Hearth. So bright a thing can hardly do less than cheer 
those who are blue ; but if the fire failed to brighten 


them, the dancing and refreshments which followed in 
the Drill Room did the work that night. The first week 
of school was necessarily a hard one ; but, when Satur- 
day came, we were repaid for our labors by Mrs. Black, 
who kindly invited us all to spend the day with her at 
Iyazy Iyodge. The old girls knew what glorious fun was 

Our Honorary Members. 

in store for them ; and, when we returned, the new girls 
allowed our prophecies to be more than true. 

Above all, the important events of this month, first 
and foremost, in the mind of a golf enthusiast, stands 
that of the organization of the Ingleside Golf Club, 
which took place on Friday evening, October the elev- 
enth, eighteen hundred and ninety-five. The idea had 


been suggested before school opened, and the brother of 
one of our new girls, enthusiastically assisted by Miss 
Hunt and Mr. Draper, had laid out links over the beau- 
tiful fields of Hickory Hearth. When we arrived they 
had tried the grounds and pronounced them "fine." 
By acclamation they were made honorary members of 
the club. A week later the officers had been elected, 
and the club was in ' ' full swing. ' ' We trust it is not 
necessary to pause until you catch the meaning of that 
joke. Then, to demonstrate its versatility, the club gave 
an entertainment within doors. Those tableaux ! — space 
forbids, and modesty declines to expatiate upon them. 
Since then the club has been growing in numbers and 
importance. It has held quite a number of meetings ; 
possibly some of you may recall having seen posted on 
the board in the Bindestrich, "A meeting of the Golf 
Club in the Studio, ' ' immediately after dinner or luncheon, 
or whenever it takes it into its head to meet. One un- 
feeling outsider had the audacity to remark that she did n't 
see how we got through with one meeting in time for 
another — but that 's because she was not "in it." 

One Saturday evening the old girls gave a card 
party for the benefit of the new ones, which proved a 
delightful success. Then came, as one of the notable 
excitements of the month, the initiation of Miss Flor- 
ence Hammond into the mysteries of the Pansy Gar- 
den. Upon this subject nothing definite can be said, 
but that the interest was great and wide- spread, and 
that she came out alive, with only a few scratches to 
remind her, for a week or so, of her unusual privileges. 





The dancing class, under Professor Newell, which is 
held every Wednesday afternoon, is evidently to become 
a feature of the school. Promptly at three-fifteen, very 
often at three-ten, a long, dark line winds itself around 
the corner, and with military precision proceeds up Ter- 
race Place. Presently the cloak room is filled with 
masculine garbs, and the Rectory School is in our midst. 
Then "on with the dance, let joy be unconfined," is 
the word of the hour until dinner-time. But dancing 
has not been confined to Ingleside entirely. On All 
Hallow E'en there was a charming dance to the Banjo 
Orchestra at the Weantinaug ; had it not rained, the 
hotel would have been crowded ; as it was, those who 
had courage to venture out had a most glorious time. 

And now we come to the best evening of all, when 
the fire was lighted in tlie'rougn^'stbhe '^chimney at 
Hickory Hearth. 

Since we left New Milford in the Spring, the new 
house, which seemed then a mass of stone and timber, 
had taken definite shape, and we found it on our return 
crowning the top of Aspetuck Hill, " a thing of beauty," 
and certainly destined to be to us girls, " a joy forever." 
The great entrance hall has dark oak wainscoting and 
low timber roof, a quaint staircase, just the thing for 
us to crowd upon, and an enormous fire-place and rough 
cobble-stone chimney coming down into the room. This 
chimney is built of stones which have been collected in 
various parts of the world. A bit of Westminster Ab- 
bey ; lava from Pompeii ; tile from Canterbury Cathe- 
dral ; stones with Shaksperian associations from Strat- 


ford-on- Avon ; and a hundred other interesting relics. 
We found a rock with a little painting upon it, by Mr. 
Charles Parsons, whom we old girls all remember lov- 
ingly, and many souvenir stones from Mrs. Black's 
friends and relatives. The most important feature of the 
room and of the house, indeed, is the big hearthstone, 
an immense block of New Milford granite, which years 
ago Mr. Black brought onto the hillside and designed for 
its present position. Although Mrs. Black had been 
several weeks in the house, no fire had yet been lighted 
on this hearthstone. It seemed the starting of a new 
home for Ingleside girls. We were all included in the 
invitation for the evening, and Mr. Draper's blessing 
was for all of us. A '93 graduate had written a lovely 
song which we all sang, and a '94 graduate, in a poem, 
told the big hearthstone what its mission was to be, and 
why. Then dear Mrs. Sanford touched a torch to the 
pile of logs, and the flames sprang up, lighting her white 
hair and filling the room with a sort of glory, and Mr. 
Draper said the prayer of benediction. 

Kvery one entered heartily into the sweet memories 
and associations which clustered already about that 
hearthstone, but there was in the crowd of girls just 
one, who of her own knowledge, understood these asso- 
ciations, and whose hand had touched and loved the 
hand which years before had laid the foundation of this 
home. This one girl said nothing of her recollections, 
but, more than any other could, she understood 

" The minor in the carol and the shadow in the light." 

Isabel Nelson Smith. 

Lighting of the Log at Hickory Hearth. 

October, 1895. 

ON the bleak hillside many years it lay 
Beaten by storms, this hearthstone gray, 
Chilled by the snows, so scarcely August's sun 
Could warm its heart. O silent, dreaming one 
What were your thoughts as seasons onward rolled ? 
Visions of past days, scenes bygone and old 
Stirred your still depths with mem'ries manifold. 
That was not life ; no wonder you were cold ! 

Numb and unconscious, perhaps wondering 
Where was the hand that first did bring 
You to the hillside, little did you heed 
Changes about you, or you had indeed 
L,earned long ago, from every wind that blew, 
From the bees buzzing gossip as they flew, 
Something of that kind fireside light that threw 
Beams from beneath the hill. You never knew 

When the grass 'round you rustled 'neath the feet 
Of many maidens, come to greet 
Those budding trees ; and when, from ev'ry side, 
Wanton echoes were wakened far and wide. — 


Now when to-night we come and find you here 
Where all those hopes that once to you were dear, 
Long ago laid aside as dead and sere, 
Burst into bloom, and ev'ry where appear, 

Still your dull heart is cold. You do not deem 

This other than a lengthy dream 

Iyike those upon the hillside in days past. 

Ah ! but old stone, 'tis time you woke at last. 

Know you the meaning of this gathering ? 

We 've come to rouse 3 T ou from your slumbering. 

Now shall your heart warm to its wakening, 

For in our midst a magic brand we bring ; 

And by that talisman we '11 work a spell — 

List, while your future we foretell : 

You, as an altar to that spirit kind 

Whose presence over all this house we find, 

Bearing the emblem of his genial cheer, 

His well- remembered heartiness, so dear 

Unto all those who raised and placed you here, 

Henceforth shall stand, his honored likeness near. 

Here then we pledge ourselves, old friend, to-night. 
Once kindled, naught shall dim your light. 
When the winds rage, and fields are decked with snow, 
Brighter and warmer still shall be } T our glow. 
Should e'er the fires beneath the hill grow cold, 
We '11 send to } t ou, as Vesta's shrine of old, 
Seeking a brand which precious life shall hold, 
Make our dull Purple warm, regild our Gold. 


Lo ! what a future dawns for one, outcast 
Through many years, restored at last ! 
See where the dancing flame, like hope's bright ray, 
Sends forth its sparks that o'er his features play ! 
Hark ! The gay crackle tells the fire has spun 
Its net of golden threads. Our spell is done ! 
Watch now the stone. Reluctant to be won, 
Warming, he wakes ! The new life has begun. 

Jkan Lkk Hunt, '94. 

Lighting of the Log at Hickory Hearth, 

October, '95. 

Tune : Auld Lang Sync. 

TO thee, O Stone ! a charge we give, 
A charge for coming days, 
A final thought before we part, 
For thee to keep always — 
For thee to keep always, O Stone ! 

For thee to keep always ; 
To ever hold within thy heart 
The charge of coming days. 

For friends whom thou shalt later greet, 

For strangers at thy side, 
For girlish faces, oft who meet 

Sweet welcome to provide. 
A sense of love, a sense of cheer, 

L,et ever from thee flow ; 
A greeting for them as the}' come, 

A God- speed as they go. 


Oh ! may the blessing given to-night 

Bide ever and for aye ! 
Oh ! may thy dancing flames so light 

Send forth their brightest ray ! 
Send forth their brightest ray, Stone ! 

Send forth their brightest ray, 
To turn to sunshine in our hearts, 

To gild the coming day. 

Edith Warner, '93. 


ETWEEN the dark and the daylight, when 
the night is beginning to lower, ' ' comes 
the time for story-telling. Then we 
Cuckoos all troop to a certain room 
where we scramble onto the beds, any- 
way at all, so long as we are comfort- 
able, and the stories commence — or, 
rather, we are ready to hear them ; 
but it takes a long time to decide who 
shall begin. You see, we have not 
had enough practice yet to enjoy our 
own tales better than the tales of others. Finally some 
unlucky girl is chosen. 

One of our favorites is "The Clam Story." It 
commences in this way : ' ' Once upon a time there 
was a little girl, and her name was Mary — no ; I think 
it was Susan. Well — well, she went down to the 


shore — " "Are you shore of it?" breaks in one of 
the girls ; and so it goes on, until the story is finished. 

Another girl tells of weird ghosts appearing in all 
sorts of ways, and, I must confess, we often see the 
ghosts ourselves. 

Then, when the stories are told, we talk about our 
personal experiences ; and these make almost as much 
excitement as the ghost stories. 

Before one can realize it, the clock strikes nine ; 
and someone begins to sing — " Madchen sie miissen 
Deutsch" — we don't wait to hear the rest! 

Ethei, Hopkins. 

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I„azy Lodge. 

The Day at Lake Waramaug, 

SATURDAY, October fifth, happened to deviate from 
the general picnic luck — rainy weather — and was a 
glorious, sunshiny day. It is certain that no one 
lost any marks in punctuality at breakfast time that 
morning. A little excitement always makes Ingleside 

At nine- thirty every one, laden with all sorts of 
wraps, was read}^ to start on the delightful excursion 


to Lake Waramaug. We packed ourselves three deep 
into trie carriages, but, as all were in the best of spirits, 
no one minded how many were on one seat. The drive 
was over a pretty country road by the side of a rollick- 
ing stream they called the Aspetuck. Past comfortable- 
looking farm-houses, through patches of woods bright 

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On the Shore. 

with October colors, over hill and through dale we went, 
always seeming to get a little higher up, till at last the 
lake came in sight, and then we followed its windings 
in and out till we .spied a cunning, little red cottage 
covered with vines, 'way out on a point in the water, 
and looking very cosey and attractive. We had been 


more than an hour on the road, and, although the drive 
had been so very pleasant, we were a wee bit glad to 
change our cramped positions. 

The first thing we did was to explore Lazy Lodge, 
amusing ourselves with the various queer contrivances 
for comfort in the quaint, little camp cottage, admiring 

Watering the Horses. 

the "Sweet Sixteen," the "Blackbird," and the "Rip- 
ple," which were stowed away in the cellar too carefully 
to be taken out and launched for our amusement on so 
short a visit, and, of course, deciding that "The Pansy" 
was the best boat of all. Then the ' ' old girls ' ' showed 
the "new coiners" around the shores of the lake, and 






took them over the fields. A queer old fisherman was 
fishing for black bass just off the point. He seemed 
greatly surprised at Mrs. Black's large family. Snap 
shots were taken in all directions when least expected. 
We cannot resist showing } r ou some of the pictures. 
About one o'clock we were summoned to luncheon. 

Off the Poixt, T v azy Podge. 

It was a most welcome call, for Lake Waramaug is 
famous for producing the largest appetite in the smallest 
space of time. After eating to our hearts' content, we 
had our first fireside meeting. The girls who won the 
bracelets last year received them, and the Pansy Scheme 
was explained. 



When the meeting had adjourned we took several 
pictures of the whole school, and the rest of the after- 
noon was spent in looking at little mementos left by 
people who had been at the Iyodge before, in listening 
to improbable fish stories, throwing stones in the water 
and wandering over the sand. As usual, the devoted 

The Whole Party. 

Cuckoos were seen in company. Here is a picture of 
them — teachers and all. We remember that some brave 
and valiant young ladies who went across the fields 
saw a little animal that looked like a large rat. They 
broke ranks and fled; no well-trained army could have 
done better in retreating. Their fears were dispelled 



when, glancing over their shoulders, they saw the animal 
going in the opposite direction with the unmistakable 
hop of a rabbit. Echo asks, ' ' Where were the ( tappfer 
Stief mutterchen ' ? " 

All too soon the signal was given for the return, and 
with many regrets we climbed into our respective car- 

The Cuckoo Family. 

riages and turned the horses' heads homeward. We 
drove around the lake to lengthen the trip and to see 
the scenery, which was most beautiful. How we enjoyed 
it all ! 

Songs and calls resounded from the different loads as 
we rattled down the valley. Surely, "a merry heart 
doeth good like a medicine," for those who started out 



feeling a trifle homesick, on this, their first Saturday at 
school, returned completely cured. 

Then came Ingleside, and dinner. After dinner we 
tried dancing, but we were too tired to dance long ; so, 
like sensible girls, we betook ourselves to our beds and 
dreamed the whole, happy day over again. 

Margaret No yes. 

The Story of November, 


"That time of year thou may'st in me be- 
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do 
Upon those boughs which shake against the 
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet 
birds sang." 

• Shakespeare. 

TO call this past month at 
Ingleside ' ' Bleak Novem- 
ber ' ' would be giving it a 
very inappropriate title, for not 
alone the weather but proceed- 
ings in general have been so 
bright and cheerful, that they 
now afford an overwhelming 
fe number of subjects for discus- 



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First a bean-bag party. Do any of you know what 
this is? Perhaps Mrs. Hunt would tell you if you 
don't. This was what the Studios gave one Friday 
night as a heading for a novel entertainment. 

Then came Cora and her Paris gowns. Rather, I 
should say, a great number of Paris clothes arrived, 
and with them Cora. The Studio was overwhelming 
in its welcome on that memorable night ; still, we 
marvel that such dainty articles could bear the hand- 
ling they received and wonder if everything from Paris 
can equal them in durability. 

The Golf Club has made itself very important this 
month by placing high in the Bindestrich a private 
bulletin board, and also by a tournament, unfinished, 
it is true, but that is accounted for by the enforced 
absence of a number of the participants. 

There has been no prettier event at Ingleside for 
many a day, than the little French tea which the ener- 
getic Hallites gave on the evening before vacation. 
Spirits rose high that night over ' ' the cup which 
cheers," and the world looked to all of us couleur 
de rose. For, is there any Wednesday in the year 
like that ever-cherished-and-looked-forward-to-Wednes- 
day before Thanksgiving? To some this year it was a 
red-letter day, indeed, for it brought that first visit 
home after the first experience of life in boarding- 
school. Ah, girls ! not one of us can ever forget 
that strange delight ; no future visit can be quite the 

For us poor mortals who remained behind, the day 


will also be sweet to memory, associated with numerous 
nd delicious packages of candy. 

We girls had prided ourselves on the fact that we 
were able to make a good, fine noise when occasion 
required ; and, frequently, we had been mournfully re- 
minded, when occasion did not require ; but that even- 
ing on the jolly hay-ride, which must not be forgotten, 
we really lost confidence in our vaunted powers, for 
Miss Warner failed to answer to our call — 
1 ' Wake the echoes far and wide ! 
Pansies ! Pansies ! Ingleside ! ' ' 
rang again and again on the clear moonlit air. In 
vain ! The echoes and Miss Warner were alike so deep 
in slumber that nothing short of a pitcher of ice-water 
would have aroused them. 

Thanksgiving Day with us was celebrated, first, by 
the change of rising hour from 8 to 8.30 — an unusual 
luxury ! Second, by the usual sumptuous repast at 
two o'clock; and, third, by a visit to Mr. Everest's 
school, where we were beautifully entertained by the 
Rectory boys till the hour of eleven P. M. 

Various incidents recur as we look back over the 
month. Tramp's death leaves a vacancy here that will 
not soon be filled. ( In view of various law suits, not 
wholly unconnected with sheep killing, in which Mrs. 
Black is interested pr. force, she thinks it very likely 
the vacancy will long remain.) Poor Tramp ! We wish 
your memory were not thus tarnished by stories which 
are false, ive know. 

One day while a number of us were walking along 



an unfrequented road about four miles from the village, 
we espied in the distance a harmless-looking personage, 
apparently deeply absorbed in the exciting occupation 
of cutting down trees and tearing up innocent plants 
and shrubs. Quietly concealing ourselves behind a 

stone wall we watched the operation for a while, then 
bobbing up from our hiding place, we made violent 
efforts to attract his attention. Botany was too engross- 
ing, and part and parcel of the stone wall we might 
have been, so utterly absorbed was he by the work in 



hand. For once, we girls had to be content to be 
ignored. I leave it to be imagined who this mysteri- 
ous personage may have been. 

And now I am about to describe an unusual scene 
at Ingleside. It goes without saying that it occurred 
during the vacation. Miss Boyer's Attic Studio occu- 

A Corner in the Attic Studio. 

pied by "the girls who staid" ! Afternoon, or rather 
evening tea, was it? served by these damsels under the 
wing of the favorite art teacher, in dainty, Dresden 
cups, amid art treasures from the Orient and Japan ; 
and, strangest of all, served to a party of young men ! 


A Yale student, one of the village beaux ! ! But let 
the particulars remain a mystery forever ! The fact is 
a fact, impossible though it may seem ! We did not go 
home for Thanksgiving, girls ; but this is a world of 
compensation ! 

To some of us the most important event of this 
month was Confirmation, which was administered in 
the little church, our little church, at Evensong, No- 
vember twenty- fourth. The kneeling girls, the grand 
old Bishop of the Diocese, the quiet twilight of an 
Indian Summer day and the beautiful confirmation 
office. This is our sweetest November memory. 

A. Florence Browning. 

Cheese Roasting. 

YOU may ask, " What is a Cheese Roast? " but, if you 
were lucky enough to be a Cuckoo, you would well 
Sometimes, on Saturday afternoons, we gather 'round 
the little stove in Miss Warner's pleasant room, and 
then the fun begins. One girl toasts crackers in a long- 
handled toaster, which Miss Boyer has kindly donated, 
while another melts, that is to say "roasts," the cheese 
in a tin spoon. When it gets bubbly and frothy it 
is poured over the crackers, and then, you may be 
sure, we are none too slow in helping ourselves to the 

Next, perhaps, Miss Hunt produces her palmistry 

book and tells our fortunes ; sometimes dampening our 

^z^?=: spirits, but more often making our 

eyes "big out" with the wonders 

which the future has in store for us. 


Then various games, such as "Pig," "Old Maid" 
and ' ' I Doubt You, ' ' are played, amid much laughter 
and fun. Cuckoos know how to laugh. 

Thus we spend many happy afternoons in ' ' Cheese 
Roasting. ' ' 

Mildred Thorpe. 

Thanksgiving: Vacation. 

THE Wednesday morning came, at length, with all the 
bustle that a vacation morning generally brings. ! 
Before eight o'clock the girls had rushed into the 
dining-room, all eager to commence the last meal they 
would have at Ingleside for a number of days. It 
seemed to the ' ' going ones " as if the time would never 
pass ; but we that were to stay thought it flew, and nine 
o'clock came all too soon. 

If any one had passed Ingleside at that moment, they 
would have observed entirely different expressions on the 
faces of the girls going down Terrace Place and those 
left standing on the "Hall" piazza. When the lucky 
ones had turned the corner, a number of us found our 
way up the street to the new Rectory. 

We watched the train come around the foot of the 
mountain and speed on to the crowd of waiting ones. 
Some of the smoke from the locomotive got in our eyes 
and made the tears come (at least, we think it was 
smoke) ; but it did not take long to brush them away ; 
and with brave hearts and a bold determination to have a 
good time, we came back to our own pleasures. 



All of us moved into the ' ' Hall ' ' in order to be to- 
gether. If the owners of the different rooms, in that 
house — no, even the spirits of the owners — could have 
looked in upon their abiding places, I fear their physiog- 
nomies would have been very much distorted. 

Those Who Staid. 

Mrs. Hunt and her order marks were no longer feared. 
We could hardly find a place to lay our possessions, there 
was so much candy and jam and other good things 
about. To make a rough estimate, we consumed in those 
four days, candy to the amount of — well, we won't say, 
after all. We always believe in telling the truth, and 
therefore hesitate to record anything that may sound 







like a Munchausen statement. It took us a long time 
to make the estimate, anyway, and we would not vouch 
for its being exact, had we not conquered harder problems 
in simultaneous quadratic equations for Mr. Draper. Be- 
sides, we have several witnesses — not only witnesses but 
partakers — to verify the facts. 

One girl had a box of goodies from home, and it only 
remains to add that she found no difficulty in disposing 
of the delicious contents. A good many of you already 
know what a box of good things is to school girls. 

Wednesday evening was clear and bright and cold. 
Some one proposed a straw ride, to which we all con- 
sented, and which we all enjoyed immensely. The moon 
shone brightly, and Harvard and Yale would have been 
pleased to have found so many ardent admirers. The 
legendary and famous raccoon was there, in song, and 
John Brown's Body w^s "mtMcally dissected with great 
ardor. When we canie back we were, glad enough to get 
into bed, for we felt a little cramped in the knees, and 
a trifle hoarse in the voice. 

The next day was Thanksgiving. We amused our- 
selves in the morning by taking bicycle tours ; but that 
pleasure was nothing compared to the enjoyment that 
came later in the Thanksgiving Dinner. We will not 
make your mouths water by attempting to enumerate 
the delicious things we enjoyed. We will simply say, 
' ' A turkey is a turkey the world over. ' ' 

Hardly had we risen from our sumptuous repast than 
it was time to think of getting ready for the dance ! 
What, dance? Why, yes; we must explain, must we 


not ? Well, Mr. Everest invited all the remaining Ingle- 
side rs to come up to the Rectory School, Thanksgiving 
night. We started, but had not gone very far when 
the spring, or that mysterious part of a vehicle that is 
forever breaking, broke. We had to wait until another 
carriage could be procured, which did not take long, 
and after many jogglings and jostlings, we arrived safely. 
We have no doubt however, that the Rectory boys would 
have found us very cool companions, had we been obliged 
to have gone much farther in the falling snow. We 
played a number of exciting games and had great fun 
dancing. A little later in the evening we enjoyed a 
delicious supper. The time came all too soon to say 
" good night ; " but after we had said it, we packed our- 
selves into the " Bus " and came home. 

The next day, Friday, was spent in nothing more ex- 
citing than the taking of bicycle trips and eating candy, 
for you have probably seen by my statements thus far 
that we had our greatest fun in the evening. Many 
eager faces watched out of the windows of the Art room, 
about eight P. M., for the appearance of the Rectory 
school that we had invited down to call. Alas ! only 
several of the teachers and no Rectory boys rewarded the 
anxious watching eyes. Nevertheless, the evening was 
pleasantly spent. 

Saturday, our last day, we spent playing Golf and 
getting ready for the return of the girls. 

In the evening, after they had come, we re- enjoyed 
ourselves by telling and being told of the good times each 
one had. We could not see but what we had had as 


much fun as they, and we went to bed with the satis- 
faction that our share had been these good times, and 
there were only four weeks to Christmas, anyway, when 
we were going home, too; for "all things come 'round 
to him who will but wait." 

Sophik BouCHKR. 


Unsere Klassenblume. 

DIE Wasserlilie auf dunklem See 
Erwahlten wir zum Zeichen. 
Ks ist der dunkle, tiefe See 

Dem I^eben zu vergleichen. 

Sie schwimmt so rein und silberweiss 

Auf ihrer dunklen Tiefe, 
Als ob in ihr fiir alle Zeit 

Der Unschuld Seele schliefe. 

Edith Durand Bennett. 

The Story of December. 

' ' The Winter time, 
With snow and rime 
Has sprung from sunburnt 
Autumn's breast. 
And in her lap 
She holds, mayhap, 
A Spring of all the Springs 
the best. ' ' 

DECEMBER has not 
sustained his repu- 
tation this year; he started 
out well, but soon forgot 
his mission, and, when the 
twenty- fifth came 'round, 
the ground was still bare, 
and Santa Claus was obliged 
to exchange his sleigh for 
a bicycle. 




We of '96 remember the December of a year ago, 
when a glorious toboggan slide was the attraction at 
Hickory Hearth. Every afternoon found us there 
through the last days of December and through January 
and February as well, till there came a sad day when 
an accident befell the bravest, sweetest of us all. Per- 
haps it is as well that no snow came this year. To 
some of us, tobogganing would have been sad. 

First and foremost among the happenings of this 
month we should record the visit of the Elocutionist, 
Jean Stuart Brown. Her delightful rendering of "The 
Winter's Tale" held us spellbound, and she so inspired 
us with the spirit of dramatic art, that our various 
copies of Shakespeare are, in consequence, somewhat 
the worse for wear. 

To rival this charming entertainment, Dr. Henry M. 
Field, the noted Traveler, the next week conducted us, 
in two short hours, through the heavy mists of Eng- 
land, and over the burning sands of the African deserts 
to the Indian Isles ; now giving us a glimpse of gay 
Paris, and then taking us to the dense and gloomy 
jungles of India. Could this kindly gentleman realize 
the enthusiasm aroused by his description of life in 
regions strange and new to most of his listeners, and 
the influence of his charming personality during the 
half hour when he gave all an .opportunity to . grasp 
-his hand, we are sure he would feel repaid for his night 
spent at Ingleside. .' ► ' 

Though the traditional snowbanks and toboggan 
pleasures have . failed _ us, ; Decernber . has been most 

4 6 


generous in providing two weeks of unequalled skating, 
and the new skating pond — our exclusive property — has 
been a delight indeed. Had you been on Terrace Place 
almost any cold afternoon you might have beheld a line 
of twenty or more girls, headed by Mr. Draper, start- 

A Professor Might Have Been Seen. 

ing merrily for the skating pond. The melancholy 
mien of our popular Professor of Athletics bespoke at 
times his prospect of clamping innumerable pairs of 
unmanageable skates, to say nothing of kneeling in an 
unecclesiastical manner on the coldest kind of ice while 


he endeavored to make skating possible to some luck- 
less maiden. Can we ever sufficiently appreciate his 
unselfish kindness? 

Just here let me mention a little episode of Decem- 
ber, interesting only to a chosen few, to be sure. 
Dainty sandwiches, festooned with blue ribbons, are 
not soon to be forgotten. Are they, Gussie? 

The next event of excitement appeared to us in the 
shape of a final examination for the members of the 
Oriental and Greek History Classes. There is lots of 
fun at Ingleside, but, strange as it may seem, study 
interrupts our recreation at times ! 

Girls might have been seen this week wandering 
from house to house mumbling incoherently the long 
lists of Babylonian kings and chanting in a dreary 
monotone the names of the Greek Gods and Goddesses, 
while in the foreground a calm and dignified professor 
often stood, quietly calculating the average which this 
sort of frantic stud)' would be likely to attain. Enough 
about examinations ; truly I am trespassing on the 
rights of February. 

The much looked forward to twenty-first arrived at 
last and found us all in the wildest state of anticipa- 
tion. No bitter tears were shed at parting but various 
promises made by all to write to ever)- girl in school 
as soon as home was reached. Many of these promises, 
I regret to say, were forgotten before we arrived in 
New York. 

Vacation pleasures come now and 1113- pen is power- 
less. No longer is one story the story of us all. How 


many homes were happier because of our return ! And 
oh ! how happy were we because of the home holiday ! 

To all of us came the blessed Christ mastide. The 
old year slipped into the past and we were at Ingleside 
again. Ninety-six had begun its history. 

Iyll^IJAN N. Underhill. 

Tobogganing in '95. 

WE ' VK heard of deadly Trolleys ; 
We 've heard of Strikes, besides ; 
We 've heard of many follies, 

But we 've felt Toboggan Slides. 

We 've longed to cross the Ocean 
And Northern Seas explore, 

To make a great commotion 
By feats ne'er done before, 



But when we least expect it, 
Unpitying Fate decides — 

Oh ! who would dare neglect it, 
And shun Toboggan Slides? 

\^ -«C ™f ^Tj* *" f 

s fwlBi* 

^ I'-iulf^ 1 8 

, ■ ,\, • ' *' - -i si 

The Faculty with us we took — 
Are any within hearing ? 

We trust ' ' the Saints ' ' will overlook 
Their faculty for steering ! 


In Algebra our courage wanes, 

In History we 're dense ; 
But the dullest of us has more brains 

Than to jump a high board fence. 

Amid this great commotion 

Some beauty has been lost, 

Some powers of locomotion. 

Oh ! who shall count the cost ? 

We started out strong-hearted, 
We started out most brave ; 

We started and — we parted — 

' ' Glory leads but to the grave ! ' ' 

We came back sadder, wiser ; 

We came back, black- and- blue ; 
We 've left the sport of " seeing stars,' 

Ye lucky ones, to you ! 

When melted are the snow and ice, 
And this fun is but a dream, 

For an amusement safe and nice 
We '11 form a Foot-ball Team ! 

Two Victims : 

H. A. H., '95. 
E. W., '93- 

Bon Voyage. 

The Travel Class. 

ONE of the pleasant memories of our Hickory Hearth 
Winter will always be the experiences of the Travel 
Fancy a circle of girls in front of the big stone fire- 
place, and clustered about the hearth. The wind is 
howling furiously outside, and the ground is white with 
snow ; but in spite of wind and storm we are alwaj^s 
ready for travel. The popular Professor is "in the chair, ' ' 
and, with an enthusiasm and interest which the future 
may never bring, we start on our ocean voyage. 


An evening has been already spent in animated dis- 
cussion as to the necessary provision for our comfort on 
the trip. The Professor has listened with an expression 
of despair on his benevolent countenance, as the list, 
longer and longer grown to accommodate the various 
whims of the feminine mind, seems almost beyond the 
capacity of the most capacious Cunard Steamer. Pre- 
ventives of sea- sickness have been discussed at length, 
and the circle about the hearthstone has really almost 
felt the pitching and tossing of the vessel, and imagined 
that the splash of the giant waves was in their ears. 

Evening after evening, with Baedecker as our text 
book, we have traveled from place to place. English 
lanes and hedges have become familiar objects, as we 
have talked them over with the various photographs and 
Mrs. Black's never- failing codacs in our hands. 

We have sat where Shakespeare sat, literally changing 
places on the old Shakespeare chest, the treasure of 
Hickory Hearth, while we have fancied ourselves in 
Stratford-on-Avon ; the wonders of London, Westminster, 
St. Paul, Hyde Park, have been presented, one by one, 
and the London streets, even the best chop-houses and 
the most desirable shops have been discussed. We have 
visited the " land-o' -cakes," and have mused over the 
stones where Scott wrote ' ' The Lay of the Last Minstrel, ' ' 
in the shadow of Melrose Abbey, and after visiting Ab- 
botsford have stood beside his tomb at Dryburg. 

Occasionally friends from the village have come in, 
to enjoy the beauties of the old world with us, bringing 
their personal experience, and incidents of their own 


travel to make our study more real. "What I did last 
Summer when abroad ' ' has been on the lips of many of 
the fortunate girls of the class, and Mabel and Cora have 
lived over again their vacation pleasures for our amuse- 
ment. No visitor has been so thoroughly appreciated, 
so warmly welcomed as Miss Boyer. Her years of life 
abroad, her art study, her store of knowledge, her riches 
in photographs and prints have all been at our service ; 
perhaps what has helped us most, has been her real 
interest in our improvement, her real liking for the girls 
who so really like her. Surely, we owe her a debt of 
gratitude for extricating us, by means of her elaborate 
explanations and her pictures of the various cathedrals, 
from the terrible conglomeration of Byzantine Romanesque 
Gothic and Renaissance Architecture, in which we seemed 
hopelessly involved. 

The days of the Travel Class are over now, and the 
Baedeckers are thrown aside. The fire has burned out 
on the hospitable hearthstone, and our imaginary journey - 
ings are done. 

In the future we may travel far and wide ; but, surely, 
no good luck, in the days to come, can bring us pleasures 
without annoyances, comforts without inconveniences, 
such a jolly company as we were on our imaginary trip, 
nor a guide so wise and kind as our Professor. 

May Hewitt. 

The Story of January. 

" Janus am I, oldest of potentates ! 

Forward I look and backward, and below. 
I count — as god of avenues and gates — 

The years that through my portals come and go. 
I block the roads and drift the fields with snow. 

I chase the wild fowl from the frozen fen ; 
My frosts congeal the rivers in their flow, 

My fires light up the hearths and hearts of men." 

— Longfellow. 

JANUARY, usually shuddered and frowned at, was 
welcomed by all Ingleside, for now came the chance 
for skating sleighing and other sports, which only 
midwinter can afford. 


No sooner had we returned from our respective homes 
with thoughts of a hard term and long examinations, 
than fine weather came ; and, with the storms, all our 
fears departed. 

\Ve had resolved to have a good time ; but even had 
we made no such resolutions, how could we resist the 
fun, — especially when a skating -pond was provided, 
sacred to Ingleside. We could now glory in the invigo- 
rating exercise. Immediately every one purchased a stick 
for "Hockey , " and one by one timid girls grew braver 
and tried the ice for the first time. Our pond, with all 
its sweet seclusion, is only over the river, where Guard- 
ing Mountain protects us from the heartless winds of 
Winter. Probably many of you girls have never thought 
that, years ago, savages inhabited this very spot. Here 
old Waramaug stationed his guard on the mountain above 
the pond, and the forts of the Scatacook tribe covered 
the ridge called Fort Hill, which circles around the plain 
below. Sometimes we fancied the Indians would have 
thought us members of their tribe, had they returned to 
claim their own. Certainly, Golf capes are more civilized 
than gaudy blankets ; but our shrieks and gesticulations 
might have been mistaken for the savage war-whoop, 
and two of our maidens indulged in a language which 
could easily have passed for the ancient Scatacook. 

Ivovely as the skating was to us all, there was one un- 
fortunate, Miss Skillin, who was deprived of its pleasures 
for awhile by illness. This is particularly to be noticed 
because it was her first absence from school duties for 
five years. Oh ! that we could boast of such a record ! 


Ingleside not only partook of out-door sports, but also 
enjoyed the month in many other equally notable ways. 
One night the ' ' Cuckoos ' ' mysteriously invited us all 
to a Salmagundi party in the Drill Room. As I have men- 
tioned by whom we were invited, it is needless to add 
any more. We all know the " Cuckoos' " ability in the 
way of entertaining. One night, cries of delight were 
heard from the old, old girls, and upon inquiry we 
learned that ' ' Needles ' ' was coming with her sister 
" Buttons." Of course we had no chance of seeing 
' ' Needles ' ' that evening, as she was claimed immediately 
by the girls who knew her. At Saturday's Fireside we 
were all introduced. ' ' Buttons, ' ' we learned, was to 
make her home with Mrs. Black at Hickory Hearth for 
the year. 

Saturdays were received with especial delight this 
month, for the Cake Sales were renewed. Poor Mother 
Hunt was besieged with questions and orders on such 
occasions. Sometimes the orders exceeded the number 
of cakes, and, to our dismay, we were obliged to wait 
until the next sale. 

I shall end the month with the Cobweb Party, whose 
complex construction reminded us the next day (by stiff 
limbs) that it was indeed a snare. The School and Drill 
Rooms were open to the partakers, who assembled there at 
seven o'clock. The lassies, in their gymnastic suits, were 
certainly ready for work. At first, the task of unwinding 
so many strings was discouraging ; but after many con- 
tortions, and after twisting ourselves into unheard of 
postures, we succeeded and were rewarded by a prize 


found at the end of each string. Augusta was quick 
enough to unravel her web first, and received an extra 
prize for her adroitness. Don't think for a moment by 
all this that January ended in a tangle. Indeed, I think 
our smoothest and nicest times came in this month. To 
be sure, there were a few knotted brows, when thoughts 
of February examinations would thrust themselves upon 
us; but — that 's another story. 

Edwina Hammond. 




The Salmagundi Party. 

ONE day last Winter, the Cuckoos, who are never 
behind in anything, decided that it was their turn 
to entertain the girls. So, after much discussion, 
we gave a Salmagundi Party. 

Saturday morning we chose the 
prizes. The first prize was a little silver 
candlestick ; the second, a pin tray ; and 
the booby prize, a little girl playing with 
a goose. 

, In theaftprhooitai'the Drill Room was 
decorated with all sorts of things, some 
pretty and some funny, for, you know, 
"Salmagundi" means odds and ends. 
The girls, who were writing letters down- 
stairs, could hear us talking, but they 
did not see anything until evening. 
Then all the girls were present. Mr. 
and Mrs. Draper and the post-graduates 
came too. 

There were seven 
tables, one for each 
Cuckoo. Each was dif- 
ferent. At one you tried 


to draw a pig with your eyes shut. At the others were 
dominoes, cards, jackstraws, and tiddle -de -winks. It 
was very funny to watch Mr. Draper at the table where 
they were threading needles. He did not seem to be 
used to it. 

When the games were over, we were very glad to 
give the prizes to two of the ' ' Studios ; ' ' but we were 
even more glad when we saw one of the seniors take the 
booby prize. Do you wonder why ? 

Elsie Jones. 


At the Organ. 

IN the quiet little chancel 
Vaulted rafters echo fair, 
While the music softly, sweetly 
Floats upon the mellow air. 

Through the window streams the sunlight 

O'er a girlish figure there, 
Turning with its brilliant color 

Into gold her shining hair. 

Thus she sits there at the organ, 

Fingers straying o'er the keys — 

Keys that answer to her bidding 
With the sweetest melodies. 

May her own life- song re-echo 

These sweet strains from discords free, 
And the minor chords that enter 

But complete the harmony. 

Laura M. Post. 






a- 73. 

The Story of February, 

1 ' February makes a bridge-? and March breaks it. ' ' 

— Herbert. 

ALTHOUGH, out of doors, this month was one of the 
most dismal and stormy we have seen, who has ever 
heard of such gaieties as occurred within, during 
the twenty-eight days that constituted February? 

On the evening of the first, the Golf Club gave a 
long-to-be remembered "Minstrel Show," which every- 
one said was a great success, even those who took part ; 
and who should know better than they ? The entertain- 
ment consisted of songs and jokes and stories, all the 
very latest, the songs being composed by a few gifted 
ones of the Club. 

Two or three days later, we had the first sleigh-ride of 
the season, and even if the snow was neither so clean 


nor so plentiful as it might have been, still the ride was 
a jolly one. We really did feel sorry for the horses when 
we went through that well-known covered bridge ; but 
were we not amply repaid for doing so, by the sudden 
appearance of two of our friends, taking their usual 
afternoon drive ? No need to say how glad they were to 
see us. 

"A Stray Cuckoo in The First Snow." 

Then came a day when there was much excited 
whispering among the "Pansies," and, that night, two 
happy, but dreadfully frightened girls, Kop and Hattie, 
were welcomed into the Pans} 7 Garten, with all the 
mysteries of initiation. No one had need to ask how 
they were treated, for did they not appear at breakfast 



the following morning, with court - plaster enough to 
satisfy the outside world, and thumping headaches for 
their own inner gratification? 

But, as the saying goes, "The bitter with the sweet." 
Before we realized it, half-yearly "Exams" were upon 
us. Why is it that the Faculty always seem to delight in 
prolonging our agony of suspense at such times, and 

The Old Wigwam. 

refuse to tell us our marks until the last paper has been 
handed in, " the last gun fired ? ' ' This February proved 
no exception to the general rule, and in one of the 
anxious intervals between " Exams," we tried to satisfy 
ourselves by writing the following, a kind of prophetic 
honor roll, on the School Room board, 




Miss Crib, 
Miss Blank, 
Miss Some One, 
Miss Brains. 

Miss De Linquent, 

Miss A. Flat, 
Miss C. Sharp, 




Miss Hope Fulle, 
Miss Pass Able, 
Miss Al Most, 
Miss Per Haps, 
Miss May Bee. 

Miss Try Again. 

Miss B. Natural, 
Miss L. Acci. Dental. 

The Misses Holler and Screech. 

February Twenty-second. 

We must here say, when the reports were finally read, 
the record was one of the best Ingleside has ever known. 



The old Wigwam dear to the old girls disappeared 
this month, but is to reappear soon on Hickory Hearth. 
Then hurrah for bowling parties and tournaments ! 

On the evening of Saint Valentine's Day came the 
all-important and never-to-be-forgotten dance. But the 
description of that I will leave to another maiden, who 
enjoyed herself beyond words. 

Surely one would suppose that by this time, each and 
every girl must have been tired out. Nevertheless, the 
next afternoon, the "Halls" and "Studios" turned out 
in gay array to receive their guests of the previous eve- 
ning, and many dark- coated figures of the other sex were 
to be seen strolling about Terrace Place, an unusual event 
in the annals of Ingleside. 

Shortly after, Lent began. So the 2 2d passed quietly. 
With the exception of the Half- Yearly Musicale, and 
the Seniors' expedition, a whole day spent with Miss 
Boyer, at the Metropolitan Museum in New York, nothing 
happened to disturb the tranquillity of those last few 
February days. 

Harriet McNeil. 

The Valentine Dance. 

WE had been anticipating February fourteenth with 
much the same ardor that the small boy looks 
forward to the Fourth of July ; and when the 
day finally came, our joy knew no bounds. 

Immediately after school "The Committee," and you 
know what a wonderful committee the I. E. C. always is, 
went to work in the Drill Room. 

The demand for step-ladders, scissors and twine far 
exceeded. the supply; girls were here, there and every- 
where — all talking at once. Is n't it f unny *how girls 
always talk at once during such a time? 

The decorations were mainly in honor of the day, and 
hearts great and small were waiting to be placed. We 
think we may safely say that no one of that committee 
ever had so many hearts at her feet before. The ceilings 
gradually took on the gay coloring, and, decked in the 
red- and- white, presented a most festive appearance; 
while the obnoxious dumb-bells and Indian clubs hid 
themselves away behind masses of evergreens. 


Any one seeing the school- room could never have 
imagined what it really was. All the big tables had been 
removed to give room for dancing. Yale flags, Prince- 
ton flags, and Harvard flags hung on the walls, and 
through the kindness of the owner of the Attic Studio, 
we filled up mantels and shelves most artistically. One 
cast, being hailed with cheers, occupied the place of 
honor. It was a tiger to gladden the hearts of the 
Princeton men. To be sure, some one was unkind 
enough to say that it was really a lion — but whether it 
was or whether it was n't, matters not. It was a tiger 
that evening. If it wanted to be a lion afterwards, 
no one had any objections. But how hard we did work 
to get it all done ! So hard, that finally Mother Hunt 
insisted upon our taking some rest, and we went some- 
what reluctantly to our rooms. 

The Dance really began at eight o'clock ; but the 
' ' Ushers ' ' were in the Drill Room long before, to do their 
duty by any one who might come earlier. Right here we 
want to say that those ushers feel as if their names should 
be handed down to future generations in capital letters. 
For was n't it dreadful to catch those masculine names, 
and was n't it dreadful, in the confusion, to remember 
them long enough to deliver to Mrs. Black and the wait- 
ing seniors, and was n't it dreadful if they did once in 
a while forget? And to think, despite it all the}' covered 
themselves with glory, certainly merits a reward. 

After dancing for quite a while, we began to wend 
our way to the dining-room, where real St. Valentine's 
Day refreshments were served. Dainty little hearts 


pierced with arrows was the predominating shape of the 
cakes and ices. 

We were kindly allowed the use of the Attic Studio ; 
but as no dancing was done up there, the precious casts 
are still intact. 

The hour of eleven soon came. 

We had hung a flag over the face of the school-room 
clock, and some one very cutely asked if we were 
' ' flagging Father Time ; ' ' but although that may have 
been our purpose, it failed in its undertaking, and eleven 
only seemed to come the sooner, — the time to say adieu. 

We felt ourselves quite incapable of thanking Mrs. 

Black sufficiently for one of the most delightful evenings 

in our school life. 

Jankt Knap. 

Tea in the Attic Studio. 


Saturday Miss Boyer in- 
vited all the Cuckoos to 
take afternoon tea in the 
Attic Studio. If you have 
ever been fortunate enough 
to visit this our pleasantest 
class-room at Ingleside, you 
wiU'remember the low door- 
way at the head of the 
stairs. looking through 
this, as we entered, what 


should greet our eyes but a little teapot steaming away; 
and, better still, a large chocolate cake bought especially 
for us at the cake sale. 

As you may suppose, we were not slow to enjoy this 
repast ; and, after we had finished, we wandered around 
the room to our heart's content, all examining Miss 
Boyer's pretty things. 

The Art Room is decorated with many curious 
Japanese vases, and teapots of all sizes and shapes ; 
little figures carved in ivory, and queer lamps, until 
one would almost think oneself in Japan instead of at 
Ingleside. The funniest of all were two little Japanese 
dolls whom the girls have called, for fun, "Paul 



and Virginia." They are supposed to squeak, but 

have been handled so much by meddlesome fingers, 

that I am afraid they have lost their 


~^- y _ Miss Boyer has also many dainty 

cups and saucers. Then, there is an 

-^ / old lamp used long ago by the ancient 

^ Romans, and little wooden shoes such 

as the Dutch wear. 

We saw them all; and then, 

as good things must come to 

an end, it was time at last for us 

to say good-bye ; but 

every one agreed that 
tea tastes better in the 
Attic Studio than any- 
where else. 

HiaEN P. Muujken. 


The Robin— '96. 

The Robin, 

AN impartial judge would not hesitate long in pro- 
nouncing the Robin, our Senior Cottage, a most 
picturesque and ideal little home for "five little 
robins. " So prettily situated as it is, a little farther up 
Terrace Place than the other houses, it commands a fine 
view of the neighboring cottages. The inmates being 
Seniors, and, of course, gifted with wonderful judg- 
ment, consider it far superior to any of the others. From 
the balcony which graces the front, the Seniors deign 
now and then, to look down on the world at large, who 
gaze upward with envy in their hearts. We must not 


forget a late addition to our circle, a little maltese kit- 
ten, which goes by the name of "Ninety-six." Every 
afternoon it delights us by taking its ' ' essential exer- 
cise" on the aforesaid balcony. 

Ours is a versatile house, musical as well as intel- 
lectual. It has a noted songstress who warbles ' ' from 
early morn till dewy eve." Her repertoire consists of 
— well, why bother to record. Her maxim is, "old 
things are best." 

Then, too, we have a gifted pianist, who, when study 
hour is over, rings forth from out the grand piano 
melodious sounds, while playing her well-known and 
familiar " 518." 

But our most gifted member is a "Special," who, 
on special occasions, cheers us on to the goal of our 
ambition by her efforts in oratory ; and often, if the 
truth be known, may be discovered going into raptures 
over her many (?) charms, and gesticulating wildly be- 
fore her hand-mirror. This fair maiden has a room-mate, 
she of the soft and juicy voice. Every morning she is 
heard singing, "Where is dat 'ittle tat." 

Last, but not least, comes our intellectual President, 
who regards little "Ninety-six" with disdain, and is 
continually quoting, " Distance lends enchantment to 
the view." Nevertheless, we often find her wasting her 
time on him. We hope he appreciates the honor, com- 
ing, as it does, from a great musician whose rhapsodies 
are sometimes interrupted by sounds from above. 

At times our house has presented the appearance of 
a chemical laboratory, for the three "Regulars" are 


wont to perform dangerous experiments, much to the 

distress of the "Specials," who flee in terror when 

' ' chemicals ' ' are mentioned. 

How quickly the weeks have gone to the privileged 

Seniors ! Perhaps the time has been aided in its flight 

by our manifold privileges. Nearly every afternoon has 

found us returning from Borelli's, laden with bulging 

paper bags which have excited the envy of those out 

for "essential exercise." 

Oh ! these happy days ! When we have separated, 

perhaps never to meet again, shall we not, in all the 

years to come, think with a quickening of the heart of 

our dear old cottage, and the many joyous days spent 

together under its roof ; when in the midst of the hard 

study which ever devolves upon a Senior, we found 

some hours in which to be gay and have jolly, funny 

times. When we return as Alumnae we will stand on 

the little porch, and with thoughts of the old times 

and the old happy days surging through our hearts, the 

familiar call ringing in our ears, we shall forget that 

" girlhood" is behind us, and, with one unanimous voice, 

shout as in bygone days : 












Story of March, 

"With rushing winds and gloomy 

The dark and stubborn Winter dies ! ' ' 
— Bayard Taylor. 


ARCH came in with 
a hurricane. Tem- 
pests on the sea and 
blizzards on land. Ingle- 
side nearly blew away, 
and even Hick or y 
Hearth shivered in the 
blast. Spite of all, 
the school work went 
on, however, and even 
' ' essential exercise ' ' 
received due at- 





One day we determined to photograph ourselves in 
the wind, and here you see how we had to cling to a tree 
to keep still. A big rain storm came and raised the 
river till we nearly had a flood ; then the electric light 
went out and we wandered about with candles for several 
nights, much to Miss Pennybacker's discomfiture and to 
. /? 

our delight, for "variety is the spice of life," and there 
was very little variety at Ingleside this month. 

The Faculty, by twos and threes, consulted a great 
deal, in a dangerous way, and we believe they concocted 
many of their dreadful examination schemes during that 
depressing weather, 



We played "hop scotch "on the pavement for diver- 
sion, polished up our wheels, took codacs — did almost 
anything in recreation hours. One fireside meeting 
relieved the monotony, but it seems, as we look back on 
it, that we did a great deal of " obligatory study," 

because we had to, and a great deal of " optional Lenten 
church- going, " because we chose to, and that there is 
very little to record. 

Wind ! Wind ! Wind is the thing we remember, 
and actually we had to cling together like this to get 
from house to house. 


Marz 1896. 

NOCH einmal zieht der Winter ein 
Mit seinem Schneegesicht, 
Und hiillt die grosse, stille Welt 
In einen Mantel dicht. 

Im Garten, Baum und Rosenbuseh 
'S ist Alles zugeschneit ; 

Jedoch, wir Alle wissen wohl, 
Der Friihling ist nicht weit. 

Susie L,. Nelson. 

The Ice Boom. 

The Last Snow-Storm, 

SILENTLY the snowfiakes fell, and loudly did we girls 
rejoice. It had been a "green" winter indeed, 
and we felt as if we had been cheated out of our 
season's sport — no tobogganing, no snow-balls, no sleigh- 
ing ! First, "the river broke up," as they say about 
here. There was a big ice boom and we all went to 
see it. Then the bitter cold seemed over and the snow 
began to fall. 

The Cuckoos celebrated the event by erecting a statue 
in the front yard. It was much admired as a work of art. 
Samson-like, its glory and strength lay in its hair. Its 
Apollo-like features and graceful pose showed it to be 


modeled on Delsarte principles. Only too soon the wind 
and rain destroyed it, together with the rest of the snow. 

However, before this dire calamity occurred, we re- 
ceived an invitation to go sleighing with the Rectory 
boys. At half after three o'clock we started : four happy 
loads of girls and boys ; and when we were beyond the 
limits of the town, we gave vent to our feelings in col- 
lege songs, calls, rounds, and the like. These were 
accompanied by the tinkling notes of a banjo. A special 
feature of the occasion was a "call," made up by us, on 
the spur of the moment, in honor of the Rectory. The 
compliment was returned by a song in which the Ingle- 
side girls figured as heroines. The time passed so quickly, 
that before we realized it, our faces were turned home- 
ward. But we were consoled for this, in part at least, 
by the bags of cakes which appeared, hailed with joy by 

All too quickly did we find ourselves standing on the 
steps at Terrace Place watching the sleighs disappear, 
our minds filled with pleasant recollections of the kind- 
ness and courtesy of the Rectory boys. 

WinnibkIv Clarke. 



Story of 

w , : ,,^ ; .wv. 


" I,ike an army defeated 
The snow hath retreated, 
And now doth fare ill 
On the top of the bare hill ; 
The plough-boy is whooping — 

anon — anon : 
There's joy in the mountains ; 
There's life in the fountains ; 
Small clouds are sailing, 
Blue sky prevailing ; 
The rain is over and gone." 

— Wordsworth. 


INGIyKSIDE saw few showers this April, but she did 
not lack flowers, for, on the thirteenth, back came 
the Pansies ready for work after the Easter vaca- 

By the grave eyes and serious faces on all sides, 
you might have supposed amusements to be out of the 
question, for some time at least, but we had scarcely 
settled into the customary routine of school life, when 
the dancing class finished its course and gave a german 
in honor of the occasion. No need to relate further par- 
ticulars of this happy event, for are they not chronicled 
in another chapter? 

With the warm, bright weather came out-of-door 
sports. Golf, for a while, held our attention. Then, 
as the last traces of snow and frost disappeared, the all- 
absorbing bicycle captivated us. We smile now at our 
sister cyclists of the city, and that smile grows broader 
if they complain of "cobbles," or such small matters. 
As long as the New Milford Boulevards do not incline 
at an angle greater than forty -five degrees, we are undis- 
mayed. A few favored ones prefer their saddles, with 
stirrups and a good horse attached, and these assure us 
that no one who has not participated in horseback riding 
can understand true sport. 

The advent of the flowers took us over fields and 
into wood on many an expedition. Who will forget the 



long ride to Stillson Hill, and the merry party, searching 
under leaves and stones, for the first pink arbutus buds ? 
Was it a chance happening that the Saint Cecilia 
Club was organized just as the birds began to sing? 
Although not properly an Ingleside Club, we must 

The First Violets. 

mention it here, for many of us joined it at the very 
first, and heartily have we enjoyed our part in the 
choral services on Sunday evenings. As one of our 
number said : ' ' We do not doubt that our choir will 
soon rival Dudley Buck's." 



One girl was initiated to the mysteries of the Pansy 
Garten this month. To everyone's surprise, she lived 
through the ceremonies, although the outsiders thought 
she looked rather worn the next morning. 

Hickory Hearth has a new inhabitant. A beautiful 
white English setter is Mrs. Black's constant companion, 

3 ;w: 


'i M if." 

and he guards the house on the hill by day and by 

There has been a new arrival at Ingleside, also, this 
month, one which created a great sensation, — the Senior 
Cat ! Concerning his character we may safely say, his 
kittenish ways are wholly unaffected, and his dignity is 
borrowed from his title, "Ninety-six." 

Auck K. Buss. 

What We Advertise to Do and What We do Do. 

Alyly the year the bulletin boards have borne their 
heavy burdens of notices without any signs of being 
tired, although they do look slightly worn and 
scarred. No matter how pinched they may be for space, 
or how disfigured by unintelligible sentences inscribed by 
some ambitious Junior, generally relating to recent politi- 
cal news — they never register a complaint. The board 
belonging to the Golf Club, in particular, looks old and 
wrinkled, and frequently its face is covered with lines, 
one under the other — for emphasis, you would be told, 
if you asked. 

Despite any rough handling or slurs they have suffered 
the day before, they bear no malice, and every morning 
their clean-washed faces greet us with a shine. May they 
long hang in their familiar places to remind us all of the 
"great" classes of '96, '97 and '98! 

* * * 

After breakfast, at noon, and even after dinner, we 
see a number of girls appear in short skirts, and gaiters 
hat look most business-like. If you notice, you will see 


the girls are prepared for a spin on their bicycles ; they 
would probably say they were going on their wheels, but 
to the uninitiated it looks more as if they were going on 
their heads. In an hour, perhaps, they return ; their 
faces "kissed by the sun," as the poet has it; very hot, 
dusty and out of breath, to be greeted with the inevitable, 
' ' Had a good time ? ' ' and to answer with their enthusi- 
astic, ' ' Perfectly splendid ! ' ' 

The hotter and more uncomfortable they look, the 
more they seem to have enjoyed themselves. It sets you 
nearly wild to watch them moving along so smoothly, 
when, very likely, you yourself have never been on a 
wheel, or, at the best, can only just keep your balance 
by dint of much care and watchfulness. 

Probably the happiest girls at "Ingleside," at their 
happiest moments, are the riders on their horses, when 
they feel their feet in the stirrup and good mounts under 
them. As they trot away, all worries as well as pleasures 
sink into nothingness — even the envy of the bicyclist 
has entirely disappeared by the time they have finished a 
first canter. 

The girl who can ride neither one nor the other 
contents herself with driving. These sports, with tennis, 
golf, croquet and walking, make "out-of-doors" at 
Ingleside in the Springtime. 

Caroline M. Roberts. 

New Milford and its Legend, 

HAD you chanced, many years ago, to wander amid 
the Berkshires, you might have come unexpectedly 
upon a little village, hushed to slumber by the 
Housatonic's gentle lullaby, and sleeping as peacefully 
as when the Indians gave place to the "White Man," 
and stealthily crept away, with tomahawk and scalping- 
knife, up the river, where they disappeared into regions 
of untrammeled obscurity. But, even as Endymion's 
trance - like sleep was gently transmuted into soft 
awakening by the fond presence of Diana, so, ere yet 
many generations had passed away, there came, from all 
parts of this land, many juvenescent Dianas, in the shape 
of noisy school girls, the united chorus of whose voices, 
and the potent charm of whose commingled grace, soon 
electrified with new life this child of Nature, this sleeping 
Kndymion, this ancient village, of Weantinaug, this 
much-beloved village of New Milford. 

Now, through the quaint streets of this same village, 
where, after the Aborigines had passed away, Quaker 
damsels were wont to meet, and discuss in staid fashion 
the sins of their brethren, merry maidens in short skirts 

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fly about on their silent steeds, much to the terror of the 
nervous and uninitiated. 

The streets themselves have changed less than the 
inhabitants ; for the old Homesteads still stand guard 
over the highways and byways. The village green, 

All Saints Church and Rectory. 

however, has quite outdone its highest anticipations, 
surmounted as it is to-day by a new Hotel, which attracts 
through these quiet streets many driving parties on their 
way to Iyenox and Stockbridge. 

Not far from the Hotel is Terrace Place. Pretty cot- 
tages border its sloping sidewalks, and here girls from 


far and near come to pass the school year, and they grow 
as fond of the simple Ingleside cottages as though they 
were the stone mansion on the Hill. 

Now this stone mansion is on that delightful plan of 
the old English home, low and long, and overlooks the 
landscape for miles around with becoming dignity. 

Not far distant, and bearing a likewise foreign aspect, 
is the little Church of "All Saints," which stands pro- 
nouncing its benediction upon all, and whose chime of 
twelve bells rings out holy greetings through the valley. 

This valley and these Berkshire Hills have well been 
named the Scotland of America, and the Scottish game 
of Golf reigns rightly in their midst. Every afternoon, 
lasses in their Scotch plaids chase the balls, or stop to 
rest and gaze up the Housatonic, as with intricate 
windings it finds its way between the towering hills, 
and disappears around some distant curve. 

The gay world has settled further in among the hills, 
leaving to a few, a fortunate few, the beauties of this 
peaceful valley. 

Throughout the region are sylvan lakes and glens and 
waterfalls — "Green Pond," beyond "Monarch Moun- 
tain;" "Steep Rock," on the road to Washington ; the 
lovely " Ismafloco Island," just above the " Merry all 
Bridge," and, further off, Lake Waramaug with its num- 
berless attractions. Legends and stories manifold exist 
in connection with these localities ; but none of these can 
compare with that spot not far from here, endeared to 
us not only by its charming scenery, but still more by 
the beautiful legend connected therewith. I read its 






name in all your faces, upon all your lips — "Lover's 
Leap. ' ' Yes ; the vers' name takes us back to the 
Tragedy enacted there so many years ago. 

It is twilight. From between the rocky precipices, 
towering high, the river comes rushing through its 


narrow gorge, reckless after its dizzy tumble from the 
falls above. On one of the ledges stands an Indian 
maiden. Her black hair in its straight masses about her 
head, vivifies her brilliant eyes and skin. Her hands are 
clasped. She is listening. Her ' ' pale-face ' ' lover was 


to join her at that hour. If he fails her, she must marry 
her father's choice, or meet her death below. 

Suddenly from behind, there is a crackling of under- 
brush. A moment more, and she is upon her lover's 
breast ; his arms are about her. But can he protect her 
from her father's wrath? 

Alas! no ; for she must marry another, or prepare for 
instant death ! 

But, hark ! Did you not hear it ? That smothered 
cry, that sudden splash, and then naught but ominous 
silence ! 

Not even do the rocks of Waramaug utter their 
secret, as the river and its victims "sweep onward to 

Mabet du Pont Colvtn. 


OF r IE 


Talking it 'Over!''' '- 

Our German. 

GAY music, jingling of bells, and happy voices, greeted 
the ear as one entered the Drill Room on the eve- 
ning of the German, that noted German which 
finished the course of dancing lessons given by Professor 

All the afternoon of the twenty-first and twenty- 
second we girls spent in decorating. The stage was 
dressed in purple and gold, while the wall opposite bore 
the colors of the Rectory School. 


Mrs. Black kindly furnished us with favors, and they 
made a pretty sight, arranged on tables either side of the 
stage. Nearby stood plenty of that great aid to dancing 
— lemonade. 

Thus we were well fortified, and went through many 
intricate figures. There was a "Chariot Race," which, 
we are sure, rivalled that little affair in Ben-Hur ; there 
was "The Greek Cross," the "Mysterious Hand," and 
" Blindman's Buff." One of the most amusing was that 
called "The Doughnut Figure," where two of the girls 
seated themselves on chairs in the center of the room, 
while three of the " Rectory s" were led up, and each 
presented with a doughnut. At Professor Newell' s sig- 
nal, the fun began. The two lucky ones who finished 
eating first, secured the waiting maidens. 

Iyater in the evening, refreshments were served in 
the School Room, and then the dancing class of '96 dis- 

Emma Cooke, 

Die Strauss Familie. 

A WONDROUS family, Strauss by name, 
Have taken their abode 
At Ingleside, to win some fame, 
And so, I write this ode. 

Now, first of all, comes Papa Strauss, 

A bright and noble Herr, 
With stern command that rules the house 

And supercilious air. 

Although he 's true to his dear wife, 

He likes the governess, 
Between the two there 's quite a strife 

— But let this matter rest. 

Oliver G., the oldest son, 

Comes next upon the list, 
A brilliant lad and full of fun, 

His father's joy in this. 

Rebecca Noseworthy, a lass 

So straight and tall is she, 
And brother Jacob cannot pass, 

A jolly lad is he. 


Ikey, his father's little pet, 

Is our romantic chap, 
And never has his father yet 

Reproved him with a slap. 

And next among this little band 

Is Rachel, Mama's joy, 
The prettiest child throughout the land, 

She never doth annoy. 

Their governess, Miss Lobenstein, 

So charming and so sweet, 
And Papa Strauss thinks she is fine 

For she is so " petite. ' ' 

Then uncle dear, who 's E. Snodgrass, 

Has come to stay awhile. 
The children think none can surpass 

This uncle, for his style. 

Then Mama Strauss, last but not least, 

Who 's taken to the "wheel," 
But Papa Strauss says she must cease 

For she 's too old to ' ' spiel. ' ' 

Grandpa and Ma are growing old 

It 's easy to perceive, 
And now this truthful story 's told 

Of all, I do believe. 

Florence A. Hammond. 

i r 





" The leaflets will leap 
out to greet us. 

The crocus spring up- 
ward to meet vis. 

The trailing arbutus 
entreat us 

To kiss her pink buds 
as we pass." 

OVKLY month of May! 
We verily received her 
with outstretched arms, 
and with how 
much joy we 


welcomed the long- looked- for flowers! And, with the 
greatest delight we enjoyed the Spring breezes which 
are so fresh and invigorating up here among these dear 
old hills. 

The first Saturday, much to our surprise and pleas- 
ure, we were invited by Mr. Everest to attend the ball 
game between the Rector ys and the Gunnery s. Ribbons 
of red-and-white and ribbons of red-and-gray were at 
a premium. Hat-bands, shoulder knots, and "umbrella 
bows," whose ends fluttered bravely in the breeze and 
waved defiance at each other, helped, we are sure, to 
encourage the players. To the sorrow of many, but to the 
infinite joy of a few, the Gunnerys came out victorious. 

To crown the excitement of the day, we all went 
up to Hickory Hearth to the last Fireside Meeting. 
Ruth Knowles won the Banner and the ' ' Fero with 
a Kiro," and the applause which followed proved too 
much for poor Rex, who fled in terror to the skirts of 
his mistress. It was his first Fireside, you know. Per- 
haps he thought we were trying to initiate him into 
the Pansy Garten. 

One day this month, girls sat "with fingers weary 
and worn, with eyelids heavy and red," plying not 
needles, but pencils, for the Fourth Term Algebra ex- 
amination was going on. All the week before, girls 
were muttering equations under their breath, and we, 
who were free from such harrowing things, grew tired 
of " x, y and z," and wished they were truly "un- 
known quantities." But the results showed, beyond 
doubt, that they were the fruits of zealous labor, and 


we cheered and rejoiced with maidens who had " met 
the enemy ' ' and conquered. 

The Golf Tournament that began last Autumn, and 
which the Winter winds had interrupted, was finished. 
We had Florence Browning to congratulate, for she 
took the honors and the natty little caddy bag as a 
reward for her strivings. 

One evening, about the middle of the month, we 
were told the startling news that we might all go to 
Washington on the following day, to witness another 
ball game between the Rectorys and Gunnerys. It 
would be hard to describe the scene which ensued. 
Were there many that denied themselves that pleasure? 
No, indeed ! It would have taken more than dust and 
hot weather to have kept us from going. So the next 
day saw five teams of excited girls start from Terrace 
Place and wend their way over high hills, through 
blinding clouds of dust, to Washington. This game 
was much more exciting than the first ; and, after many 


a hard struggle, the Gunnery s again gained the day. 
We came back just as the sun was setting, and the 
beautiful shadows on the hills grew deeper and deeper, 
until they had darkened into twilight before we reached 

On the seventeenth, the chimes (the beautiful me- 
morial of Rev. Edward C. Bull), were heard for the first 
time. How eagerly we listened as the notes rang out 
and died away on the evening air ! Every one said : — 
"Sh!" — and a breathless stillness came over us which 
lasted until the last note had trembled away. Now 
we hear them every Sunday ; but each time the same 
quiet falls upon us girls. Somehow, we never talk then. 

The Pansy benefit gave us another opportunity to 
hear Mrs. Hannibal Williams in "A Midsummer-Night's 
Dream." It is truly needless to mention the enjoyment 
it gave us. 

No hands or brains were idle toward the close of the 
month, for those who were rehearsing for one of the three 
celebrated plays, or practicing quartettes, duets or solos 
for the Musicale, were taxing their powers of invention 
to concoct a becoming costume for the Gypsy Queen. 
Even the Symphony Club, which has been a thing of 
every Wednesday evening, seemed to redouble its efforts. 

The last thing to record is the "Robin Tea." We 
were invited from three until five- thirty. The Robin 
being the Senior house, was gorgeous in the '96 colors. 
The decorations of white and green blended so prettily 
with the gay cushions that were here, there, and every- 
where, enticing one to sit down and stay far over their 


time. We were entertained in a royal way, with refresh- 
ments from Maresi's ; the cute souvenirs, consisting of 
little green frogs, tied by white satin ribbons to cards, 
bearing appropriate mottoes were laughed over, enjoyed 
and taken home, to remind us that the Robins, beyond 
a doubt, are exceptional hostesses, and have given us 
the pleasantest time of all with which to remember the 
close of '96 and the month of May. 

Evangeline Cape. 

The Crickets' Life at Hickory Hearth, 

OUT of the darkness, the storm, and the gloom of a 
windy night in January, a new girl from a city far 
beyond these beautiful Berkshire Hills, opened the heavy 
iron-clamped door of Hickory Hearth, and stepped into 
a new life. The room was warm, with a ruddy glow 
which radiated from a huge fire of hickory logs, and the 
flames, roaring and crackling up the enormous stone chim- 
ney, seemed to bid the newcomer welcome. Figures and 
faces came out of the dark oak hall, and cordial hands 
were eagerly stretched forth in greeting. So the stranger, 
the last " Cricket " for the Winter of '96, became one of 
the Hickory Hearth family, and blending her chirp with 
the others, made the days merry, and the nights tuneful, 
as the year went on. 

* * * 

Early one morning in June, before the dew had left 
the grass, three figures might have been seen wending 
their way towards the farm. The} T were hatless, and the 
light breeze blew their hair about in reckless abandon. 
With an air of perfect freedom and unrestraint, they 
raced along in greatest glee, like children upon an un- 
looked for holiday. They were the "Crickets" taking 



' ' Buttons " to be weighed again ; and woe to her if she 
did not tip the scales satisfactorily for the credit of 
Hickory Hearth ! Having more than fulfilled all desired 
expectations, she was allowed for her good behavior to 
wander at her own sweet will among the cows, and 
Meerschaum 2d, and Belle Reinette, were made happy by 
her attentions. Lessons and practicing loomed up in the 

dim distance, and so these would-be " Dairy Maids " were 
persuaded ere long, that study was a necessary evil. Back 
they turned, and walked, oh! very slowly, to prolong the 
pleasure as long as possible. They found at the door 
awaiting them, John, the " Hickory Hearth Oracle," with 
Rex, the faithful horse; then they knew that their brief 
vacation was over, and without delay disappeared over 



the brow of the hill, trundling the weighty ' ' Buttons ' ' 
behind them. 

* * * 

A terrific peal of thunder, and then a crashing sound, 
followed by a report like a pistol, and a brilliant glare of 
light flooded the rooms of Hickory Hearth, revealing a 
startled group. Mrs. Black and May, part way up the 

staircase, were glancing anxiously at each others' appre- 
hensive faces. Isabel, at the window in the alcove, had 
shrunk back in alarm as the dazzling flash shot into the 
room, and Flora and Miss Hill, in the hall below, stood 
with their mouths agape, as the thunder continued to roll 
heavily along the heavens ; while Rex, with his tail 
tucked close beneath his body, rushed wildly up the 
stairs, and buried his head in the lap of his mistress, 


trembling pitifully. A head appeared around the door- 
way ; it was John, to learn if any harm had happened. 
The light abruptly disappeared, and a darkness, silent, 
save for the muttered thunder, covered all. 

" 'T ain't candy, never will be; them chillun thinks 
't will, but 3 r er can't make candy 'tout Awleans molasses. ' ' 
And Emma, our cook from the Sunny South, pulled the 
thin sticky fluid through her fingers, it must have been 
for the eleventh time. We "Crickets" gazed at her 
doubtfully, but it surely was the truth, for the clock ticked 
on, and the candy came not. "Then, Emma, you must 
tell us some of } r our war stories until the candy boils." 

" Wa' stories, wa' stories? I dun know no wa' stories ; 
I'se only for cooking ; you go ask Harris, he knows a lot 
of 'em. Why, he was on the South '11 side, an' he dun run 
away one night, when de smoke was so thick yer could 
cut it wid a knife, and, la ! when de Yankees foun' him, 
he was as weak as a baby ; but I seed de Yankees run at 
Bull Run ; dey runn'd all day, and dey runn'd all night, 
fer three nights an' days runnin' . I was at Mount Vernon 
du'ring de wa'; staid der all de time ; but, chillun, the 
candy 's b'iling, I can't tell 3 T er no wa' stories; yer go 
ask Harris, he '11 tell 'em to ye'." And Emma grasped 
the handle of the kettle with both hands, and started 
across the kitchen ; but the molasses, in a sudden freak, 
boiled high above the pot, and she in frantic haste made 
a zigzag rush for the sink, while we scattered before her, 
giving wide room to her mad career. However, the 
candy cooled hard, and we ate it. 



A gentle tapping upon our doors by "Gussie," 
awakens us to the fact that it must be seven o'clock, and 
that we have a new day to live at Hickory Hearth. 
Hastily dressing, we tread softly down the stairs, and out 
upon the piazza, to obtain our bearings, as it were, before 
the first dewy freshness of the morning has worn away. 
The dining-room doors slide back, and breakfast is an- 

nounced by a sun-tanned native of the Southern states ; 
then are we greeted by our hostess, and a merry meal 
ensues. Our hunger appeased, Rex demands his share 
of attention, and then, also, our hands well -filled with 
sugar, we visit the stables and bestow unlimited petting 
upon each horse. But finally we are obliged to tear our- 
selves away, if we wish to reach school in time for 



prayers; so, donning our capes, we bid farewell to Rex, 
who has leaped upon the stone parapet to watch us off, 
and we hurry through the orchard by the short-cut. 

Busily we practice and study until, at the sounding 
of the triangle, we drop our books, and crowd around 
Miss Rinker, all demanding a letter in the same breath. 
In the midst of the hubbub, the bugle blows, and after 







the required ten minutes we enter upon George's domain, 
where we regale ourselves with luncheon. Again our 
brains are restlessly employed until, as the shadows ap- 
proach three o'clock, the doleful faces brighten, and the 
weary ones are filled with a new life. Then right briskly 
the wheels spin along the road, and the golf balls score 
no less than thirty-six, while tennis and riding hold no 



second place in the sports of Ingleside. Wearied but 
happy, the " Crickets" climb the hill, and rest upon the 
piazza, vying with each other in their tales of the day. 

Sometimes "Jen 1 lie" is there, with that wicked Dandy, 
who always makes Rex jealous. But the day is not 
yet ended. In new attire, and with washed faces, the 
"Crickets" reappear, and after their dinner, a la punc- 
tilio, entertain with buoyant hearts all who may chance 
to visit Hickory Hearth. A dream - like recollection 
comes of the many times when they have listened in 
silent ecstasy for hours, bound by the magic of Mr. 
Clemence's music, and the}' still seem to listen, and to 
hear the wondrous harmony which came to them in the 
moon -lit church, when, with the feeling of the born 


musician and the technique of the Eeipsig graduate, he 
interpreted the wonders of Wagner, until the music 
seemed one marvelous inarticulate speech, and they were 
wafted into the infinite. Evenings that bring special 
memories like these, and those of every-day life, alike 
ended peacefully, and "the moon" in the upper hall 
arises and lights them to their beds, where sleep steals 
on, "as sleep will do when hearts are light and life 
is new. ' ' 

* * * 

Before a large open fire place a young girl is lying 

rest fully upon a thick bear- skin rug, and, with her head 

pillowed upon her arm, is gazing thoughtfully into the 

flames, though ever and anon, she bestows a loving pat 

upon the white English setter whose place she has 

usurped, and who mutely resents the imposition. The 

room is quiet but for the snapping of the burning wood 

and the musical tones of a lady, who, seated within easy 

reach of the lamp on the table, is reading aloud. Two 

other girls by the table are bending low over their fancy 

work, and with a tense expression about their mouths, 

ply their needles in silent swiftness. The ' ' Crickets ' ' 

are all present, for the fourth maiden is ensconced upon 

the sofa in comfortable ease, and lies with her eyes 

closed, and a dreamy expression upon her face. The 

evening glides on until, as the story is finished, the hands 

of the clock point at half after nine, and our best evening 

of all, at Hickory Hearth, "the quiet evening," is but a 


Isabel White. 

The Senior Cat. 

GREAT excitement prevailed in the ' ' Robin ' ' a few 
days after the Easter vacation ; there was a hurried 
consultation with "Buttons," and the mighty 
Seniors sallied forth from their palatial abode, joy, anx- 
iety, and, it must be admitted, some terror, depicted upon 
their intelligent countenances. In about ten minutes 
they returned, the centre of an admiring crowd, bearing 
in their arms one who was destined to fill a lofty 
position, the dignity and power of which was only 
equalled by the graciousness and condescension of its 

The Senior Cat was no longer a figment of the 
imagination ; it had become a very playful, furry, maltese 
fact. It was at once christened "Ninety-six," partly 
because it w r as the mascot of that glorious class, and, 
partly, because it had nine lives and six toes. 

What fun we did have with that small kitten, to be 
sure ! I wonder how many times, O Robins ! the walls 
of our stately mansion re-echoed w T ith the sound of 
"Kop's" plaintive voice: "Oh, girls! come quickly! 
The cat is going to have a fit ! It jumpeth ! " But in 
spite of these daily alarms and the dark predictions of 
envious outsiders who have no pets, a fit is still a thing 
of the future. 

One much- enduring individual remembers a certain 
morning when the spirit moved the "Cherub," as it is 
sometimes called, to gambol at half -past three, also the 
exceeding thoroughness and \dvacit3 7 with which it obeyed 
the promptings of the spirit. 


With what firmness and strength of character we 
1 ' pursued the even tenor of our way ' ' in regard to that 

very important subject — its diet ! Heedless of all gra- 
tuitous remonstrances, we followed rigorouslv the course 


marked out for us by " One-who-knew," and if " Ninety- 
six ' ' does not follow the example of his illustrious name- 
sake, and grow up to be both strong and beautiful, it 
will not be from any lack of the most assiduous care 
and attention in his youth. In proof of this we point 
proudly to the path from the Binderstrich to the Robin, 
which has become a veritable ' ' Milky Way ' ' through 
our efforts. 

All of the brilliant and wonderful actions of this 
remarkable animal can not be related here ; suffice it 
to say, that never, from the time when in his early 
infancy, we left him alone on the balcony, to the night 
he said "Amen" in the middle of the hymn at prayers; 
no, not even that terrible study-hour when the cry of 
' ' Iyost Cat ' ' resounded throughout Ingleside and the 
tearful Seniors rushed frantically about Terrace Place, 
making a very weird-looking torchlight procession as 
they examined the most unlikely nooks and crannies, 
by the light of their nickering candles ; no, not even on 
that memorable occasion, nor before, nor since, has he 
ceased to cover himself with honor and glory. 

Emily W. Sailer, '96. 


THEY usually begin with the expressman. That is, 
they begin for us with him, and when the wagon 
appears, we, who are expecting the good things, 
race up the street and gather 'round as the man de- 
posits the box on the office porch. In a short time the 
whole of Ingleside gathers about it, carefully reads the 
lucky maiden's name, and guesses on the contents. 

It is only on Friday and Saturday afternoons that 
we girls can have feasts, anyway ; so, imagine how we 
long for those days to come. Our mouths water the 
whole week through, in anticipation. 

Holidays are feast-days, also. Washington's Birthday 
proved no exception to the rule. Poor George Wash- 
ington! We wonder if he ever had a "box" himself, 
and enjoyed it as we do ours. We fear he only had a 
feast of "cannon balls and cartridges," as the song 
goes. However, we feel vastly indebted to him for 
making himself immortal enough to institute a holiday. 

Some one has said, " Enough is as good asa " feast," 
but we never have seen anything one-half as good. The 
ice-cream, cake, and other goodies that go to make up 
a box never taste the same at other times ; and, as for 
a bottle of olives — why, to the end of our days they will 


be a delight to our eyes for the happy recollections they 
bring ! 

Sometimes we girls feel a trifle dilapidated after we 
have finished one of our bountiful repasts, and we learn 
the truth of Shakespeare's words — "They are as sick 
that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with 
nothing. ' ' 

We wonder if the great dinners of the social world 
we may attend in later years will be one-half as de- 
lightful, as the times when we have sat perched on 
chairs and tables partaking of a "feast," where hat- 
pins did duty as forks, and one knife — a penknife, at 
that — served for all. But this much we do know: a 
' ' box ' ' will give more genuine fun and satisfaction than 
anything else on a girl's list of pleasures. 

Augusta H. Knevals. 






The Pansy Garten, 

FOR two long years no 
record has been 
written concerning the 
work of the Garten and 
the data has accumulated 
unnoticed in the fleeting 
months until now we of 
'96 must write of '95 as 
well as ourselves. Many of 
the happenings concern 
only us who are fortunate 
enough to have been ad- 
mitted into mysteries of the Garden. 

To begin with '95. The pansy periods were success- 
ful and joyous ones, and new pansies bloomed on old 
bracelets, and new bracelets shone on the arms of those 
who had not labored in vain. 

■*- * H- 


The '95 ribbon on our banner floats proudly and 
bravely among the others, bearing the names of five 
girls who were weighed in the balance and were not 
found wanting. The close of '95 saw the work of the. 
original seven finished; finished, but not forgotten, for 
we, to whose waiting shoulders their mantle of dignity 
and office was transferred, can never forget what they 
have done. Recognizing our inefficiency it was with 
fear and trembling, not vanity and pride, that we went 
on with their labor, for we knew that we should have to 
strive hard to make our record as brilliant and brave as 

To cheer and help us on, one of the seven came back 
to us for a time, our first Untergartner ; came to Hickory 
Hearth, our new rallying place, where our dear Gart- 
nerin reigns as queen, and where her loyal pansies joy- 
fully meet her and hold sweet council together. 

Here, too, the Fireside Meetings have been held, 
and triumphant maidens have, from month to month, 
received the banner from crestfallen, kneeling girls, to 
bear it proudly to their own fireside. 

In the natural course of events, initiations have taken 
place, such as no pen outside could describe, or inside 
dare describe ; the peculiar noises succeeded by cheers, 
all suggesting joviality, alone can be enlarged upon, for 
that is all that has come to the listening ears of the 
Unkrauts. They credit us only with mystery, little 
knowing the true work and worth that lies underneath. 
At other times Bef order ungs have been celebrated, but 
here we are trespassing on secrets. 






On a few tables little purple books have been found, 
securely fastened with golden locks. Most disappointing 
books are they to the curious outside world, for no key 
is ever found by them to make the volumes yield their 
treasures. The Pansies wear a knowing look when 

What is Geheimniss? 

questioned, but, like the books themselves, decline to 
give up their secret. 

The absent ones have furnished our pen almost as 
much material as those who have been here to clasp 
hands and repeat with us Tapfer, Ernst and Treu. 


The scent of orange blossoms has quite overpowered 
us Pansies, who have been quietly blooming here in our 
secluded work, for news has come at different times, in 
the shape of wedding cards, telling us that two Stief- 
mutterchen have taken other vows than those imposed by 
the Garten. The heartiest congratulations are extended 
by the Garten to the two who have firesides of their own 
now, and it wishes them all the good things that life 

But here a serious question presents itself. What 
are we to do with those husbands when we have a 
Geheimniss of the Gesells, as we are always hoping to 
have, some day? We have never had such a weighty 
matter to ponder before. Girls, shall we have to make 
a new By-Iyaw? 

Mingled with this news of rejoicings there has been 
sadness, which has left its deep impression upon our 
hearts. The memory of the dear girl who ever proved 
herself our loyal, loving friend ; and the thoughts of 
those past days, when she was one of us, has made 
us a little quieter at times, a little more thoughtful, a 
little more earnest in our ways. We have missed the 
brave Pansy who cheered us with her brightness, and, 
trusting always in her loyalty, the Garten has mourned 
her loss with sincere sorrow, realizing it will never have 
a truer or more faithful member. Although there are 
many things to perpetuate her memory, when we girls 
of the Garten had a Geheimniss to talk over the L,enten 
offering, the unanimous vote was — "A Window for 
Helen. ' ' We gave a little benefit in which ' 'A Midsummer- 


Night's Dream" made our plans a reality, and the win- 
dow is in its place to keep in continued remembrance the 
dear face, the dear heart of Helen Taylor. 

The usual Pansy Day letters from the old girls make 
us realize that the days of '96 are over and its record 
almost ended ; and as we gather at Hickory Hearth for 
our last Geheimniss, we trust and hope as we say "Auf- 
wiedersehn," that the Summer months may only 
strengthen in the hearts of the Pansies the same brave 
spirit, the same earnest purpose, the same loyalty they 
have ever exhibited in the months that have gone. 

Augusta J. Whitk. 


All Saints, with the New Bell Tower. 


Auce Dewey, 

1st and 2d Periods* 

Edwinna Hammond, 

3d Period. 

Anna Feetcher, - il The Hall. 

4th Period. 

Katherine Dewey, "The Cuckoo. 
5th Period. 

' ' The Cuckoo. 

"The Cuckoo. 

YEAR OF '96. 

Ruth Knowles, ' ' The Hall. ' ' 
1st and 6th Periods. 

Anna Fletcher, 
"The Hall." 

2d, 3d and 5th 


k Vi 

\\: it 





"The Studio^ 
2d Period. 


"The Had." 
4th Period. 



Commencement Week 

Sunday Morning, June 7th 

AT 9.30 O'CLOCK 







Monday Morning, June 8th 

AT 9.30 O'CLOCK 

AT Hickory Hearth 




Awarding of Bracelets, Sweepstakes Prize, etc., at six o'clock 


at 7 o'clock, on the lawn 

MR. E. G. CLEMEJVCE, Conductor 

Assisted by MR. C. H. BUTTE RICK 

Gypseys : — Misses Bliss, Roberts, Gair, Thompson, A. J. White, 
Fletcher, L. Underbill, Carnahan, H. McNeil, Hewitt, M. 
Hewitt, I. White, Knibloe, Thorpe, Mulliken, Hopkins, Jones, 
Botsford, Booth, Kimlin, Colvin, Smith, Jennings, Lyons, 
Noyes, Boucher, Knap, Cooke, Nelson, Buck, Post. 

Tuesday Morning, June 9th 






Tuesday Morning, June 9th— Continued 


Frau Philipp, 



hex, I 
'> J 








Pensionarinnen bei 
Frau Philipp 

\ Dienstmadchen in 
J demselben Haus 


Die Handlung spielt in Frau Philipp' s Wohnung in einer 
grosseren Stadt. 



H. Hoffman 

- Selected 




Tuesday Morning, June 9th— Continued 



Madame Maegarni (Veuve), proprietaire d'une maison 

meublee, ----- AUGUSTA J. WHITE 
Eudoxie Ceeopatre, sa fille, - HELEN MULLIKEN 
Madame de e'EntrechaT (nee Saute-en-1'air) maitresse 

de danse, ----- SOPHIE BOUCHER 

AnaTasie, bonne, - LILLIAN UNDERHILL 

MEEE. Doremi, maitresse de chant, - DAISY SAILER 

M. Vacarme, personnages qu'on ne voit pas ; mais qu'on 

entend beaucoup, - 

MEEE. de e'AquareeeE, artiste-peintre, ISABEL WHITE 

Le Scene se passe a Passy. 

Tuesday Evening, June 9th 


OVERTURE, -------- Seeected 





Pygmaeion, a sculptor, - - - HARRIET L. McNEIL 


Agesimo, slave to Cheysos, - MAY HEWITT 

Mimos, Pygmalion's slave, - ELSIE JONES 

Cynisca, Pygmalion's wife, - - - SUSIE L. NELSON 

Myrine, Pygmalion's sister, - - - EMMA W. COOK 
GaeaTEA, a statue, ----- MABEL D. COLVIN 

Scene : Pygmalion's Studio. Place : Athens 


Miss McNEIL Miss GAIR 




Wednesday Morning, June 10th 



Miss NEWTON, Instructor. 


1. Marching 4. Hoop Drill 

2. Short Wands 5. Wooden Dumb Bells 

3. Free Movements 6. Dancing Calisthenics 

Awarding of Prize offered by Mr. Robert C. Black 

Augusta White 

Janet Knap 
Alice Bliss 
Emma Cooke 
Daisy Sailer 
Edwinna Hammond 
Kate Pearson 
Carrie McMahon 
Laura Hill 
May Hewitt 
Bessie Booth 
Susie Nelson 
Florence Hammond 
Fay Chaffee 
Helen Mulliken 
Edith Florence 
Florence Browning 

Mabel Colvin 
Isabel White 
Laura Post 
Edith Bennett 
Winnibel Clark 
Sophie Boucher 
Margaret Noyes 
Hattie McNeil 
Lena Botsford 
Clara Carnahan 
Lillie Hatch 
Lillian Underhill 
Ethel Hopkins 
Julia Jennings 
Elsie Jones 
Mildred Thorpe 
Alma Lyons 

Helen A. Hunt 
Cora T. Underhill 
Ruth S. Knowles 



Wednesday Evening, June 10th 



MR. E. G. CLEMENCE, ----- Instructor 

DUETT — Cradle and Swing Songs, - Leon D'OurivieeE 
SOLO — Selections from Op. 33, - - - - A. Jensen 

DUO, TWO PIANO — Rondo, - C. GureiTT 

SOLO — Valse Flottante, - R. Statkowski 

Miss McNEIL 
SOLO — Piece Rustique, - - - - R. Mozkowski 

QUARTETTE — Novelette, - - - - H. Hoffmann 








Thursday, June 11th 




Words : Heeen A. Hunt 
Music : E. G. Ceemence 
ESSAY— "The Influence of Costume" 

POEM —" The Laurel " 


PART SONG— "Twelve by the Clock" - 

ESSAY— "The Story in Modern Literature" 

ESSAY — ' 'Undercurrents ' ' 


PART SONG— "Forest Greeting" - 




PARTING CHORUS — "Sweet Ingleside " 

C. A. Leoyd 

S. Rust 

Thursday Afternoon, June 11th 

At Hickory Hearth 
The Graduates will receive with Mrs. Black 

t-p-pt? cnwr f Words : Mabee A. KnibloE 

TREE SONG - - - j Music . E Q Cw5MENCB 

EVEN SONG — Ale Saint's Church, at 7 o'Ceock 

Influence of Costume, 

* * A ND Eve first to her husband thus began : ' Adam, 
*V well may we labor still to dress this garden. ' ' 
Who dare say that Milton understood not the all- 
powerful instinct of woman to beautify ; to decorate ; to 
adorn? With marvelous intuition regarding her nature 
he put dress among the first words uttered by her lips, 
and thus gave the keynote of her future work in the 
world. Strange and superficial though it may seem, at 
first glance, the external in life largely influences and 
controls the internal, and feeling is greatly influenced by 
action. We who have been in a very humble way 
disciples of Delsarte, have learned that what appears 
upon the surface compels the feeling underneath, and 
woman through all ages has made personal adornment 
not only one of her chief pleasures, but also one of her 
most powerful agents to control the other sex and to 
work out her schemes for good or evil in this world. 

All civilized nations have recognized the fact that the 
minutiae of costume in the uniform of army, navy and 
government officers is a matter of significant importance. 
Congress exercises legislative authority in reference to 


the design of a button, the color of an epaulet or the 
fashion of a soldier's or sailor's cap, as well as regarding 
the laws which secure our country's rights and liberties. 

Time has proven that there is wisdom in the adoption 
of a distinctive uniform for all who labor in the public 
service. A flitting glance at the policeman's brass 
buttons controls Pat in his hilarious vagaries quite as 
surely as does the stroke from the officer's club. The 
cap and red coat of the fireman clears the track as 
effectually as an armed force, and a vision of the simple 
garb worn by the trained nurse wins the immediate 
confidence and soothes the sufferings of the lonely hospital 
patient. A Florence Nightingale or a Sister of Mercy 
passes unharmed where women of equal dignity, but 
clothed in the habiliments of fashion, would not dare to 

In scriptural times costume was not considered a 
matter of small importance. Joseph's famous coat of 
many colors changed forever the history of the Children 
of Israel. The mantle of Elijah, with its great signifi- 
cance attached, serves as another example. And the 
dire fate of him who, bidden to the wedding feast, came 
clothed not in the wedding garment, shows us how 
severe were the laws regarding dress at that time. 

In these later days the vestments of the clergy in 
the Roman, Greek and Anglican churches play a 
conspicuous part in the gorgeous ritual. The scarlet 
robes, the purple and fine linen of the priest, attract and 
impresses where extreme simplicity and lack of symbolism 
would fail ; and, so, what seems to the Puritan a trivial 


matter, becomes of serious importance since, trivial or 
not, it may influence thousands of pious worshipers. 

Although Ballington Booth claims to ignore all worldly 
ideas, he has chosen for his followers a distinctive cos- 
tume, and the poke bonnet and plain blue gown is to-day 
a sufficient introduction, and protection, too, in the slums 
of London and New York. 

All along the road of life, costume plays an important 

part in woman's career. It is an expression of her joy, 

or emphasizes her sorrow. The christening robe that 

envelops her infant form is the first associated with her 

history ; soon laid aside, to be sure, but cherished always ; 

not by its wearer so much, perhaps, as by the fond 

mother, who sees in it always the baby she has loved. 

Years roll on, and the confirmation dress marks another 

epoch. The graduation dress soon follows, when we 

see her 

"Standing with reluctant feet, 
Where the brook and river meet, 
Womanhood and childhood, fleet. 1 ' 

Then comes the first ball gown — a symphony of 
gauze and lace — and some women treasure up as full of 
associations, also, the Golf costume, the Bicycle dress, or 
the Habit in which the}- have cantered over hill and dale. 
There are other toilettes, too — simple, even- -day 
dresses — that have history ; that bring visions of bright 
days, or sad, which, because of this or that, we can not 
rip, or change, or give away, and in some cases seem to 
have completely altered the story of a life. But the 
dress to a woman, the dress the girl dreams of and from 


which the woman would not part ; the dress that is 
folded and laid away to grow old and yellow with years, 
but growing dearer and more precious with flitting time ; 
the one over which she bends with fondest smiles, or, in 
the might}' sorrow of widowhood, bedews with tears ; 
the one through which the angel of joy ■, or the angel of 
sorrow speaks to her in their deepest language ; the 
gown that makes her forget her years and grow young 
again, only to bring to her realization all the more 
forcibly that time is hastening on, is the wedding gown ! 

We are all aware that man never pleads guilt}- to the 
love of dress ; but, nevertheless, circumstantial evidence 
is strongly against him. The pride that the small boy 
exhibits in his first pair of trousers is a telling argument 
against this later protested indifference, for " is not the 
child the father of the man ? ' ' There is also the im- 
maculate dress-suit and dazzling patent-leathers that 
mark the crossing of the Rubicon to man}' a socially 
ambitious youth. Surely, as the great poet says, "The 
soul of this man is in his clothes. ' ' 

Man proclaims that he considers comfort first, and 
that the elegance and style of dress is to him a matter of 
secondary importance ; he cares nothing for vain, idle 
show. If he can prove to us that comfort lies in the 
choking high collar and necessity demands the several 
inches of what seems wasted material in the bright silk 
hat, and can account for the reckless extravagance of 
cloth that exists in those lengthy coat tails, we shall 
stand convicted. 

There are the dudes — the weakest of human develop- 


ment — " they toil not, neither do they spin, yet Solomon 
in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." 

There seems to be a generally acknowledged propriety 
in the fact that, barring the Oscar Wildes and the men 
dressmakers, the question of costume is largely in the 
hands of woman. It is her duty, as from the first, to 
beautify, to dress the garden. It therefore becomes a 
sacred duty that she should strive to elevate costume into 
a noble influence. Dress and a foolish love of it may, it 
is true, be a terrible danger. People tell us of the 
misery which may come of it, wretched homes, children 
neglected, men driven to mad-houses and penitentiaries 
by extravagant expenditure in this direction. We, in 
our country school, can scarcely realize what fashion 
means to those who are ' ' in the swim. ' ' In our quiet 
corner of the world the fashion of a hat is good or bad, 
as it becomes the owner, or suits well or ill its uses and 
our sports ; and the cut of a skirt or sleeve desirable, if it 
pleases the eye and does not impede the Golf club or the 
Bicycle. Woman, up to the present day, has frankly 
admitted that she considered beauty first, and comfort 
later; but now the great question is: Shall comfort, in 
the shape of short skirts and bloomers, banish forever 
the delicate, flimsy creations that have called forth the 
poems and sonnets of former days? 

Utility makes beauty, largely, and dress should be 
made suitable to time and place, purse an accessory only ; 
" a servant, not a master." Not because Dame Fashion 
dictates, but because of reasons pure and good should 
we follow her decrees ; and a woman who dares defy 


Fashion will often bring her and her votaries to her feet. 
No amusement or occupation can be womanly which 
necessitates an unwomanly costume — nor should a woman 
make herself conspicuous by an unnecessary violation of 
Fashion's laws; but, under certain conditions, there is 
nothing finer than a girl who is dignified in a narrow 
gown when wide skirts are in vogue, or at her ease in 
tight sleeves when her sisters hide behind mountains of 

We read of the King's Daughter that her ''clothing- 
is of wrought needlework ; " but we are told, first, that 
she is "all glorious within." So a woman should make 
her costume, if possible, the expression of herself — then 
dress will hold in the world not a first place in im- 
portance, but be considered the handmaid of brighter 
things ; and the woman who controls costume well, will 
clothe herself, first, with "light as with a garment." 

Defense of Shylock. 

IT has been said that Shylock has no redeeming quali- 
ties, and at the first glance this might seem to be 

true. He has been called revengeful and avaricious, 
but even admitting this to be so, are there no virtues 
besides mercy and generosity? 

He has been condemned on the ground that his 
affection for his daughter seemed to be scarcely equal 
to his love for his ducats ; but must a man be utterly 
and wholly corrupt because he does not show affection 
for a child who hates his nation, his religion, and him- 

Those who accuse him of coldness towards Jessica 
forget that Jessica could never have been a true daughter 
to him in any sense of the word. 

Can a daughter who speaks of her father's house as 
hell be loving? One who deceives, be dutiful? Is it 
possible that a liar should wish trust and affection ? For 
Jessica does lie when she answers the Jew's question 
with: "His words were, 'Farewell, Mistress,' nothing 
more," when Launcelot had just said something quite 

Jessica herself feels that she commits a ' ' heinous sin ' ' 
in treating her father as she does, and surely there is no 


other way of looking at her theft. Her flight, repre- 
hensible though it was to leave her father alone in his 
old age, might possibly be excused on account of her 
extreme youth and inexperience, and consequent im- 
patience of her secluded life ; but nothing can be found 
to exculpate that theft, for she knew, of course, that 
she would be very justly disinherited after such an act 
and, therefore, could not have comforted herself with 
the reflection that she was taking only a small part of 
what would eventually have become hers. 

In spite of her unworthiness, however, it is not at all 
certain that Shylock did dislike her. See how he shows 
her his bitterness and trouble in the lines : 

' ' But wherefore should I go ? 
I am not bid for love ; they natter me." 

And how little sympathy or comfort he gets from her. 
What tenderness lies hidden in the words "Jessica, my 
girl ! " He is even moved by Iyauncelot's kindly wish for 
his mistress, and says, "The patch is kind enough." 

It seems strange that Shylock has been so generally 
condemned for that passage, commencing: "My daugh- 
ter ! O my ducats ! O my daughter ! " It must be re- 
membered that this Jew was a proud man. Is it at all 
in accordance with his nature that he should go and 
blazon forth his real hurt, which was the flight of his 
daughter with Lorenzo, on such a public place as the 
Rialto? Would he let every dog of a Christian read his 
inmost sorrow ? Yet he must have some outlet ; the loss 
of his money was public news and he could relieve his 


feelings by raving about it ; but, in spite of himself, his 
real trouble would creep out and makes the whole passage 
infinitely sad. 

One can almost see the poor, old man, deserted and 
betrayed, by the only person in the whole world on 
whom he had any claim, as those pathetic utterances 
burst from his lips, the street boys mocking him as 
they fell, ' ' O my daughter ! " ' ' Fled with a Christian ! ' ' 
' ' Stolen from me by my daughter ! " It has been urged 
against him that he had no friends ; it was said that if 
those around him found nothing in him to admire, there 
could have been nothing admirable in his character ; it 
seems to have been forgotten that to be a Jew in Venice 
at that time was worse, immeasurably worse, than to be 
the meanest cur that roamed the streets ; it has slipped 
from the memories of his modern enemies, that to be 
successful in any place, or at any time, is to direct the 
hatred of thousands of the envious unsuccessful against 
oneself ; and Shy lock was a successful Jew. 

What Jessica thought, and said, and did, cannot be 
used against him, for she was a Christian in spirit, if 
not in birth ; in spite of this, she nowhere actually says 
anything against him. 

As for Jewish friends, it is inconceivable that so 
wealthy and powerful a man as Shylock should have 
no parasites and followers in such a money- loving nation, 
but, with the exception of Tubal and Chus, none are 
mentioned ; therefore, it is not only possible but ex- 
tremely probable that he had true friends among his 
people who were simply left out of the play, as his 


flatterers were, for artistic effect. So the reproach of 
being friendless cannot, with any certainty, be main- 
tained against him. 

The only other accusation brought against him are 
those of revengefulness, avarice and cruelty. He was, 
undoubtedly, revengeful ; why should he not be ? Had 
not his nation been down -trodden and persecuted for 
centuries? Had not he himself particularly suffered at 
the hands of the Christians, and especially at the hands 
of this particular Christian and his friends? He com- 
plains of Antonio for lending money gratis, and his 
complaints are just. The merchant's methods of doing 
business were very unbusiness-like ; he had no more right 
to bring down the rate of usance, then in Venice, than a 
store-keeper in New York would have to bring down the 
price of any article, by selling it below cost. Antonio 
called him ' ' cur ' ' and ' ' dog ' ' in public places ; he in- 
sulted and humiliated him on all occasions. What won- 
der that Shylock hated him from a personal stand-point 
as well as with the accumulated hatred of centuries, of a 
Jew for a Christian ? 

So Shylock naturally jumped at the first chance of 
vengeance. And the very fact that he did take such a 
slight chance of getting his enemy in his power, proves 
beyond a doubt, that avariciousness did not play such a 
large part in his character as is generally supposed. It 
was the merest accident that Antonio's ships should be 
lost or delayed, and Shylock lost much money in taking 
the risk. 

The redeeming point in his character, however, is his 


great loyalty to his nation, and even if this were his only 
good trait, he should be forgiven many faults because 
of it. 

A great authority has spoken of his speech, begin- 
ning: "Hath not a Jew eyes?" as one of the ablest 
defences of an oppressed nation ever written ; and as 
Shy lock is the great type of the Jew of all ages, he 
should need no other defence for himself. 

In the court scene he stands out clearly, a grand, 
though solitary figure, sternly demanding justice. 

The terrible power of public sentiment ; the Duke ; 
the lawyers ; all Venice ; one might almost say, all the 
world against him, but all unable to turn him from his 

Why should he be blamed, because Portia's appeal for 
mercy failed to move him? It was beautiful, certainly, 
but no one would expect a modern plaintiff to be affected 
by it, and human nature is essentially the same in 
all ages. 

As for his reputed avariciousness, it does not 
appear in this scene at all. Several times he refuses 
thrice three thousand ducats, no inconsiderable sum in 
those days. 

In fact, Shylock did love his ungrateful daughter 
better than his ducats ; he can not be called friendless ; 
he is no more avaricious than any other man ; and, above 
all, his whole character is redeemed, if it needs redemp- 
tion, by his intense, overwhelming patriotism, one of the 
noblest, most unselfish of the passions of man. 

Emily W. Sailer. 

The Story in Modern Literature, 

THE origin of the story, its function and mission in 
the social economy, its present standing, its prob- 
able future — these are a few of the many questions 
which the Goddess of Literature is entitled to ask of all 
true worshipers at her shrine. 

Though this is a theme capable of varied treatment, 
reaching back, as it does, for its beginning into the 
nebulous past and pointing forward into the dim future, 
it may not be out of place to try to discover some of 
the reasons for the important role which it plays upon 
the stage of modern literature. 

In this age of rapid progress, when new fields of 
discovery are continually opening before us, the story, 
as one of the prominent signs of the times, expresses 
the dominant characteristics and tendencies of the day. 
It is, above all, a response to present social demands, 
and acquaints us with social, religious and political con- 
ditions in the most profitable and expeditious manner 

Since the introduction of printing, the growth of 
the story has been gradual and sure. In the days of 


our great grandmothers, the substitute for the present 
story was found only in the old almanac hanging over 
the kitchen fire-place, or among the back leaves of the 
"American Spelling Book." Here the ambitious milk- 
maid was brought to the notice of the rising generation, 
the tendency to love of finery rebuked, and the habit 
of ' ' counting our chickens before they are hatched ' ' 
held up to ridicule and scorn. The experience of the 
boy who stole apples under difficulties, the man whose 
cow was gored by his neighbor's bull, and tales of 
a similar character certainly afforded no great oppor- 
tunity for amusement or edification. The Bible really 
contained the only short-stories worthy of the name 
then, and the romantic maiden of those days was driven 
to hiding the tabooed novel under the pile of flax at her 
spinning wheel, when she pined for that kind of enter- 
tainment, and made the adventures of "Sir Charles 
Grandison," and the sorrows of "The Children of the 
Abbey" her sole literary excitement. 

Within the last fifty years the story has superseded 
poetry, the drama and the novel, though the last only 
to a limited extent. We all know that poetry, as a 
general style of writing, has fallen into disuse ; and it 
is an acknowledged fact that the drama fails to exert 
its former influence. Even the novel does not occupy 
so important a place as it did a few years ago ; possibly 
because life is too full and the world too busy to read 
long serial productions, or the three-volume romances 
which were once so popular, and in many cases, so 
valuable during the first half of the present century. 


To-day, if the great reformers and philanthropists 
who wielded their pens for noble purposes a few years 
ago, could return, they would, perhaps, realize that 
their work might be better done by the short, sharp, 
incisive magazine-story, which accomplishes its object 
and produces its effect between stations on a railway 
journey, and scatters its seed unnoticed till the harvest 
is reaped. 

Dickens might touch our hearts to-day by the pathos 
and humor of his ' ' Little Xell ' ' and his ' ' Mr. Micaw- 
ber" in many new surroundings, or make the world 
laugh while he closed the doors of a " Dotheboy's Hall" 
by some shorter satire than that of ' ' Nicholas Xickleby , ' ' 
and opened to troops of happy girls — shall we say Ingle- 
side, instead?' Charles Reade might now write a hun- 
dred stories to unlock, as did his "Very Hard Cash," 
the doors of English mad-houses. Thackeray might give 
us, in homeopathic doses, his exquisite satires on Lon- 
don life, and send, periodically, into the literary world 
his lessons upon character by others than ' ' Becky 
Sharp. " 

\\ nat the pulpit cannot reach, what the stage cannot 
influence, what the law cannot control, the magazine, 
through the caustic pen of its story- writer, will accom- 

This is the day of the magazine ; but the political 
article, the historical number, the critical treatise, even 
the telling humor of a Charles Dudley Warner in the 
Editors' Drawer, are not. after all, what sells the maga- 
zine : and to us Americans, sad though it may seem, this 


standard, what will sell, proves the value. In nine 
cases out of ten, you will find the pages of the "Cen- 
tury," "Scribner's," and "Harpers" cut first at the 
short story. 

The modern story was really created when magazines 
were first introduced. Public demand was for amuse- 
ment. The American man has little time for anything 
save business. For his amusement, therefore, the maga- 
zine writer was forced to condense much thought into a 
small space, and to do his work with a few sharp blows. 

By dint of hard labor, the writers of this day and 
generation have in a measure accomplished this result 
and have first given their stories to the public through 
the medium of magazines. But though the constant 
reading of these periodicals is discouraged by those who 
seek to acquire a thorough education, the majority of 
the reading-public incline to the magazine and news- 
paper ; and the circulation of these publications, con- 
stantly and rapidly increasing, proves that they are a 
necessity to the people, and the surest channel through 
which not only amusement, but education and improve- 
ment may be provided for the masses. 

To be able to write a good and effective story one 
must have not only a gift for narration and a plentiful 
amount of invention, but a keen appreciation of human 
joy and sorrow derived from personal experience. Eliza- 
beth Stuart Phelps, in her latest work, "A Singular 
Life," has done more to overcome the narrowness of 
old-school Calvinism than all the ecclesiastical conven- 
tions could accomplish. 


A recognized author should be capable of combining 
various styles of composition in one work. Richard 
Harding Davis possesses this faculty and uses it to 
good intent in his "Unfinished Story," one of the best 
examples of what the modern story should be and is. 
Here, narration, description, exposition, argument, are 
all introduced with a facility not easily surpassed. It 
-seems to respond, in no small degree, to Shakespeare's 
criterion of art, since it so faithfully "holds the mirror 
up to nature." 

But the best modern story- writer, though one with 
whom the Americans as a nation are unfamiliar, was the 
French author, Maupassant. As a writer of short stories 
h.e had no equal, nor is it probable that he will have 
before the close of this century. 

As it is quite common with us now to wonder what 
will be the conditions of life in the Twentieth Century, 
so we may also conjecture concerning the story of the 

If men are upright and honorable, if women realize 
the noblest ideal of womanhood, if politics are raised to 
a higher level, if religion becomes less a name and more 
a fact, then and then only the natural evolution of the 
story will be toward higher and better things. 

Iyife will govern the story then as it governs it to- 

Katk Oakley Pearson. 


"Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm." 

IT requires little experience to steer a ship gliding 
smoothly over waters so calm that the sun's rays 
serve only the more clearly to outline her graceful pro- 
portions and to shape into grotesque forms her swaying 

I say it requires but little experience to mark out a 
ship's course on such occasions ; but the sea is never our 
trusted friend ; she is of a changeable nature, and when 
storms arise, and the fearful undercurrents rock and 
tumble the craft in the bellows' trough, then is a trusted 
captain needed to take the helm and steer, with skillful 
hand, out of danger's way. 

He is initiated by experience into the mysteries of the 
true course, and though he can not pacify the billows, 
nor calm the winds, he knows where the rocks and shoals 
lie, and can best avoid the undercurrents, and steer 'round 
and past to the port beyond. But did you ever stop to 
reflect upon the undercurrents which lie beneath the sur- 
face of human lives? Day in and day out people hide 
their deepest emotions, their truest sentiments, and their 
finest susceptibilities, covering them with a surface of 
reserve, while presenting to the world a calm and un- 
ruffled exterior, rendered indifferent by contact with the 
stern realities of every- day life. 


These undercurrents of thought and feeling exert 
an influence upon the conduct of ever} 7 human 
life, and require for their control a master-hand at 
the helm. 

No two individuals possess the same qualities, neither 
in any two lives is the undercurrent quite the same. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes makes this very happy 
remark : ''Every one's feelings have a front-door and a 
side-door ; the front-door opens into a passage which leads 
into an ante-room, and from there into the interior 
apartments, while the side-door opens at once into the 
sacred chambers : — to this door few possess a key. ' ' 

Character is formed by one's mental and moral sur- 
roundings ; in early life it is, of course, in an embryo 
state, and the impressions gathered then are the seeds 
w T hich germinate and produce the flowers of later life. 
It is the imperceptible undercurrent of circumstance 
that makes or mars the future. 

In this wonderful nineteenth century, when civiliza- 
tion is making such rapid strides, we believe that the 
undercurrent of circumstance exerts not only an influence 
upon the character of individuals, but also upon that of 
nations. The various wars, the manifold national and 
international disputes of the present day, only too truly 
verify this statement. 

Our likes and dislikes, our individual interests and 
ambitions, are undercurrents of every-day life which alter 
each action more than we at first imagine. 

Take, for example, the average business man ; he 
enjoys, at the theatre, a light farce where he can drown 


his cares in a good laugh — while the sentimental school- 
girl prefers to sit under the shadow of a large hat, and 
weep copious tears of sympathy with the heroine, whose 
lover has been stabbed by a jealous rival. 

Our ideas of the world, ideas crude as yet to most of 
us, are the result of this ever-present influence. 

Take schoolgirls leaving the home nest, and the care 
and protection of the mother wings, to brave the horrors 
of homesickness at boarding-school. That is the first 
step which takes us out into the world, and how to take 
it is always the cause of more or less anxiety in the home 
circle ; for upon it often depends the glorious success, or 
ignominious failure of a life- time. 

We sometimes imagine, since we have entered upon 
school life, that we have seen and known the world ; we 
discuss weighty questions with the utmost confidence, 
and our heads are filled with opinions which we, in our 
vanity, are convinced would do credit to the President of 
the United States. 

Yet, we are but gliding down the stream of girlhood — 
the hills on either side shut out our vision. Let us here 
consider the difficulties that we must overcome ere we 
can pursue our course. For it is here we find our strength, 
here our feet gain their steadfastness, and our hearts 
their courage. 

May we not liken Ingleside to an immense navy yard, 
where ships of every size and kind, from the frail little 
sail boat, capsized by a sudden squall, to the imposing 
warship ready to fight the battles of the world, are in 
process of construction? Observe carefully, and you will 


recognize the craft of the " 'Freshmen." the framework 
scarcely begun ; they have no undercurrents to over- 
come ; the}* are safely anchored for the next four years. 

Holding aloof from the rest, alive with eager ex- 
pectancy, wait the Juniors. It is easy to see that com- 
petent workmen have done their tasks well. But, O ye 
Juniors ! be not over-confident : the building of a ship is a 
laborious process, and though to-day you present a fair 
appearance, there is still much to be done before you will 
be considered finished ; there must be a smoothing- down 
of all rough edges, an infinite amount of polishing, 
before you can hope to sail with becoming majesty. 
Fortify yourselves for that last and most trying ordeal — 
thorough examination — and strive to control the mighty 
undercurrents of your stormy souls. 

Joyful, yet trembling, are the Seniors, "wearing all 
that weight of learning lightly, like a flower." their 
letters of passport made out. all their bravery on, with 
tackle trim, sails filled, and streamers waving, ready and 
waiting to be launched upon the waves of the untried ocean. 

You who, as yet. know not. or perhaps have for- 
gotten, the joys and sorrows of the schoolgirl's existence, 
can not realize what to-day means for us. 

Standing on the threshold of a new life, our girlhood 
steps forth with school days behind it, and the world of 
womanhood before. 

The season is in full sympathy with us, for all Nature 
seems imbued with a festive spirit, and has robed herself 
in gay colors, making the closing moments of our school 
life fresh and beautiful. And vet an undercurrent of 


sadness pervades the atmosphere, for parting is not sweet 
sorrow to us ; it is, rather, a wrenching asunder of the ties 
that have bound us together these last few years — 
ties strengthened by the many pleasures and pains borne 

One great sorrow came to us last year, when the first 
link in the class chain was broken, and a true young life 
was extinguished. To recall her, is to us one of the 
sweetest pleasures of memory. Alas ! only too soon, 
memory alone will be our only realization of the present ! 

To-day is an epoch in the life of each one of us, and 
we think, with the poet, of "Youth forever dear, forever 
kind ; ' ' for it is only as necessity reminds us of what we 
are losing, that we realize how dear the memory of these 
last few years will always be to us. We are ' ' like the 
watermen, that row one way and look another." 

Girls, what does the future hold for us? Is it a life 
of butterfly existence ? One round of selfish pleasure in 
the false glitter of so-called society ? A thousand times 
no ! Rather let ours be a womanly existence, kindled with 
lofty thoughts and ambitions, and filled with noble deeds. 
When we have left the protection of our Alma Mate?', let 
us not forget, or rudely thrust aside, the noble principles 
inculcated here. But let us wear, graven on our hearts, 
purity, modesty and truth ! If we do this, the ocean 
upon which we are launched to - day will prove ever a 
trusty friend, and, looking fearlessly into the future, 
ready to control the undercurrents of fate, we may 
realize the, motto of '96: " Remis non Remo." 

Juuk McNeil. 

Abschiedsgrtisse an Ingleside. 

LEBEWOHL, lieb' Ingleside ! 
1st die Zeit denn wirklich schon gekommen, wo 
wir dir Lebewohl sagen miissen? 

Ja, '96 ist hier. Die schnellfiissige Zeit eilt weiter 
ohne Aufenthalt und befiehlt uns mit lauter Stimme, den 
Freuden und Eeiden der lustigen Schultage Eebewohl zu 

Aber Gott hat uns ein Gedachtniss gegeben, und das 
ist unser bestes Besitzthum. Wie heisst es doch schon in 
dem schonen deutschen Eiede : 

"O, wem ein rechtes Gedenken bluht, 
Dem bluht die ganze Welt, 
Und wessen Herz in Treue gliiht, 
Um den ist's wohl bestellt." 

Ja, treu wollen wir dir sein, lieb' Ingleside, treu 
wollen wir den Wahlspruch bewahren, welchen du in 
unsere Herzen gepflanzt hast : 

"Tapfer, ernst und treu." 

Oft in der Zukunft werden helle Bilder vor uns er- 
scheinen. Eange Tische mit frohlichen, lachenden Mad- 
chen tauchen vor unseren Blicken auf . 

Es ist wenige Minuten vor Neun. Alle marschiren, 
plaudernd wie Elstern, hinauf in's Turnzimmer ; der 


"Triangle" erklingt, und plotzlich wird Alles still — 
Herr Draper erscheint zum Gebet. — 

Das Gebet ist voriiber, Alle eilen in's Schulzimmer ; 
Biicher werden gesucht, aber oft nicht gefunden, — und 
wenn es regnet, geht's mit Gummischuhen und Regen- 
schirmen ebenso. Endlich ist man fertig und eilt zu den 
Recitationen, unterwegs noch einmal die Aufgaben wie- 
derholend. Hier und da hort man halblaute deutsche 
und franzosische Satze oder eine eilig gefliisterte astro- 
nomische Verhandlung. Doch wer konnte alle die Bilder 
aufzahlen, welche ein Schulleben mit sich bringt? Ja, 
das sind Zukunftsbilder. 

Doch hier muss ich unserer lieben Mitschiilerinnen 
gedenken, fur welche Ingleside nicht nur Schule, sondern 
zu gleicher Zeit auch ein Heim war. Und was fiir ein 
trautes, liebes Heim muss es nicht sein, in dem eine so 
liebenswiirdige Hausmutter waltet und Alles so wohl 
geregelt ist, und man so viele gute Freundinnen hat ! 

O gewiss ! ich verstehe es, dass fiir Euch der Abschied 
noch viel schwerer sein muss als fiir uns, die wir doch 
nur einen Theil des Tages hier verlebten. 

Aber, liebe Freundinnen, ich bin sicher, dass wir Alle 
einig sind in dem Gedanken, dass Ingleside uns und wir 
Ingleside angehoren, und dass wir es Alle mit gleich 
innigem Gefuhl nennen und immer nennen werden : 

' ' Unser Ingleside ! ' ' 

Aber nun miissen wir zur Gegenwart zuriickkehren 
und Abschied nehmen von all' den theueren Platzen, in 
denen wir so manches Jahr ein und aus gin gen. 

Adieu, Ihr lieben Vogelnester, Robin, Bobolink und 


Cuckoo ! und auch Ihr anderen Hauser, empfanget unser 
herzlichstes I^ebewohl ! 

I^ebet wohl, Ihr treuen l,ehrer, und unsere giitige 
Patronin auf Hickory Hearth ! Habt Dank fur Alles, 
was Ihr fur uns gethan. Wir bitten, bewahrt uns ein 
freundliches Andenken, wie auch wir Kuerer stets in 
I/iebe gedenken werden. 


Marching Song, 

LAUREL, waving on the high hills, 
Lilies, dancing in the stream, 
Pink, with mossy green of dark rills, 
Green, with white of silver sheen. 

Laurel, breezes calling to thee 

Murmur low o'er hill and field, 
This thy watch- word given thro' me : 
" Fighting, die, but never yield." 

Lilies, lo! the laughing river 
Whispers counsel gliding past, 

In the rushes all a- quiver, 

" Drift not, row unto the last." 

Lilies, Laurel, now together 

Bid farewell to Ingleside, 
In the golden warm June weather 

Hand and hope and heart allied. 

Kneel before her for her blessing, 
On her love and bount}' dwell, 

All your debt to her confessing, 
Then, reluctant, bid farewell. 

Helen Hunt. 
May 20th, '96. 

Tree Song. 

HAIL, Tree of "Ninety-six," all hail! 
Rule now for us this hill and vale, 
And be a living monument 
To keep our memory. 
Oh ! guard it e'er with zealous care, 
Our future joys and sorrows share ; 
Imbue us with all good intent, 
Our inspiration be. 


Tho' ' ' Ninety-six " be scattered far, 
Tho' Fortune smile, tho' Grief should mar. 
We all in friendship's ties are bound, 
Are links in friendship's chain : 
'Mid stormy blasts, 'mid tempests drear, 
Thy sturd} T heart will know not fear ; 
Nor shall our hearts, for the}' are bound 
In the Alumnae chain. 



And now, lest mem'ry's leaves should fade. 
We standing here beneath thy shade, 
From out the ' ' Loving Cup ' ' do pour 
This water o'er thy feet : 
Oh ! may it life and growth ensure, 
And raise thy head in azure pure ; 
And so may we grow evermore, 
I^ife evermore be sweet ! 

Mabel A. Knibt.ok. 



In Chicago, Illinois, July 28th, 1S95 
Helen Mary Tayeor, 

Class of "96. 
" Tapfer, ernst unci treu." 


George E. Staub, of New Milford, to Sarah J. Maleett, of 

Bridgewater, Ct., October 17th, 1895. 
David C. Saxford, of Bridgeport, Ct., to Golda A. McAIahox, 

of New Milford, December iSth, 1S95. 
Henry Parish Deeafieed, to Marguerite M. Dewey, both of 

New York City, January 26th, 1S96. 
Normax J. Purce, to Freetoye C. Schlager, both of Bing- 

hamton, X. Y., April 13th, 1896. 


Officers of the Pansy Garten. 

Mrs. Wm. D. Black, - - - G&rtnerin 

Cora T. Underhill, '95, - - Untergdrtnerin 

Augusta J. White, - Geheimschreiberin 

Julie L. McNeil, '96, - - - Schatzmeisterin 

Lillian Underhill, - - - Wdrterin 

Ingleside Golf Club. 

President, - Jean L. Hunt 

Vice-President, - - Laura M. Post 

Secretary, - Lena E. Thompson 

Treasurer, A. Florence Browning 

Stewards of the Course 
Anna B. Fletcher Mabel D. Colvin 

Emily W. Sailer Kate O. Pearson 

Champion of '96 Tournament 
A. Florence Browning 

Names oj Links 

^0. 1 — The Kant 

No. 6 — The Swift 

' ' 2 — The Great Scott 

" 7— The Pitt 

' ' 3 — The Hope 

1 ' 8 — The Dickens 

' ' 4 — The Longfellow 

1 ' 9 — The Homer 

" 5 — The Kidd's Evolution 

Killi, Killeek ! A cleek, a cleek ! 

Chilli-how-ee ! A tee, a tee ! 
Caddy-co-ax ! Score your whacks ! 

Green and white for I. G. C. ! ! ! 






Executive Committee. 


Lena K. Thompson 
Mabee E>. Coevin 
Laura M. Pose 

Margaree G. Noyes 
Jeanette M. Knap 
Jueia L. McNeie 

Cora T. Underhi^ 
Lieeian W. Underhiee 
Augusta J. White 





Emiey W. Sailer 

A. Florence Browning 

Susie Neeson 

Ceara C. Carnahan 
Mildred Thorpe 
Julia L. McNeie 

Cora T. Underhiee 
Lieeian W. Underhiee 
Augusta J. White 



Ingleside Directory, 



Mary Oeiver, 
Anna O. McLean, 
Ruth S. Knowees, . 
Heeen A. Hunt, 
Cora T. Underhiee, 
Isabee C. Sadeer, 

Chareotte Lowe, 
Winnibee Cearke, 
Paueine Otis, 
Eeeen Reid, 
Emiey Saieer, 
Laura Post, 
KatheeEn Higgins, 

Edith McLean, 
heeen m. Tayeor, 

Hattie Lindeey, 
Jean L. Swords, 
Moeey Townsend, 
Lieeian Underhiee, 
Eesie Schneeeer, 
jueie parmeeee, 
Susie Neeson, . 
Janet Knap, 

Gertrude Sanford, 
Marian Swords, 
Mamie Van Ingen, 




Pittsburg, Pa. 

Troy, N. Y. 

Killingworth, Ct. 

New Milford, Ct. 

Morristown, N. J. 

Sedan, Kas. 

Plainfield, N. J 

Ansonia, Ct 

Chicago, 111 

Montclair, N. J 

Philadelphia, Pa 

New York City 

Montclair, N. J. 

Troy, N. Y. 

Chicago, 111. 

New York City 

Colorado Springs, Col. 

Morristown, N. J. 

New Haven, Ct. 

Morristown, N. J. 

Ansonia, Ct. 

New Haven, Ct. 

Ansonia, Ct. 

Sandusky, Ohio 

Litchfield, Ct. 

Morristown, N. J. 

New York City 



Ingleside Directory— Continued. 

"THE HALL."— Continued. 
Elizabeth GiEEETTE, . • Des Moines, Iowa. 

FLORENCE Browning, . . . Devon, Pa. 

Edith Ide, .... Troy, N. Y. 

Anna E. FeETCHER, . . . Denver, Col. 

CaroeinE Roberts, . . Siasconsett, Mass. 


Sophie Boucher, 
Edwinna Hammond, 
Feorence Hammond, 
Aeice Dewey, 
Katherine Dewey, 
heeen Mieeer, 

New York City. 
Portland, Oreg. 
Portland, Oreg. 
New T York City 
New York City 
Albany, N. Y. 

Adaeine L. Buck, Mabee A. Knibeoe, 

Aeice B. Buck, Caroeine McMahon, 

Edith D. Bennett, Bessie Booth, 

Lena Botsford, Neeeie Kimein, 

Minnie Beinn, . Bessie Brown, 

Caroeine Schovereing. 

Ingleside School. 

1895 and 1896. 

Mrs. Wm. D. Beack, Patroness and Manager, 
Miss Ameeia Skieein, Head Mistress, 
Rev. F. B. Draper, 
Mr. W. F. Hart, 
Miss Chareotte Boyer, 
Fraueein E. Peegry, 
Meee. August Fagier, 
Mr. E. G. Ceemence, 

Hickory Hearth 

The Hall 

The Rectory 

Hotel Weantinaug 

Attic Studio 

The Hall 

. The Studio 

Hotel Weantinaug 



Ingleside School— Continued. 

Miss Feeeows, 

Miss Warner, 

Miss Hunt, .... 

Miss Loomis, 

Miss Newton, 

Miss Carrie Newton, 

Mr. Charges Butterich, 

Mrs. H. D. Hunt, House Mother, 

Miss C. F. Hiix, Secretary, 

Miss M. Rinker, Book-Keeper, 

Miss M. K. Pennybacker, Household Manager, The Bindestrich 

Miss M. Doone Pennybacker, Housekeeper, The Bindestrich 

Miss Minee, Dressmaker and Seamstress, . The Robin 

Pupils— Ingleside School. 



. The Studio 

The Cuckoo 

. The Cuckoo 

The Bobolink 

The Robin 

The Robin 

New Haven, Ct. 

The Bobolink 

. The Cuckoo 

The Cuckoo 

Julia L. McNeil, 
Emily W. Sailer, . 
M. Elizabeth Gair, 
Mabel D. Colvin, 
Kate O. Pearson, 

Augusta H. Knevals, 
A. Florence Browning, 
Winnibel Clarke, 
Alice E. Bliss, 
Cora S. Underhill, 
Laura M. Post, 
Alma B. Lyons, . 
Lillian W. Underhill, 
Augusta J. White, 
Isabel N. Smith, 
Bertha L. Barber, 


New York City 
Philadelphia, Pa. 
Brooklyn, N. Y. 
Brooklyn, N. Y. 
Hudson, N. Y. 

New York City 

Devon, Pa. 

Ansonia, Ct. 

. Hartford, Ct. 

Morristown, N. J. 

New York City 

New York City 

Morristown, N. J. 

New York City 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Washington, D. C. 



Pupils— Ingleside School— 



Anna E. Fletcher, 

Denver, Col. 

Lena E. Thompson, 

New York City 

Janet M. Knap, 

Sandusky, Ohio 

Susie L. Nelson, 

Ansonia, Ct. 

Clara C. Carnahan, 

Fort Wayne, Ind. 

Echvinna C. Hammond, 

Portland, Ore. 

Harriet L. McNeil, 

New York City 

Emma W. Cooke, 

Stamford, Ct. 

Caroline M. Roberts, 

Siasconsett, Mass. 

Ruth S. Knowles, 

Killingworth, Ct. 

Evangeline Cape, 

Washington, Ct. 


Sophie Boucher, 

New York City 

Margaret L. Noyes, . . 

New York City 

Ethel Hopkins, 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Elsie Jones, .... 

Newark, N. J. 

Mildred Thorpe, 

Philadelphia, Pa. 

Florence Hammond, 

Portland, Ore. 

Helen H. Mulliken, . 

Washington, D. C. 


Margaret L. Sanford, 

Litchfield, Ct. 

Elsie Schneller, 

Ansonia, Ct. 

Isabel White, . 

Utica, N. Y. 

Flora F. Hewitt, 

Derby, Ct. 

Mary Hewitt, .... 

Derby, Ct. 


Edith E. Bennett, Carolina 

: L. McMahon, 

Lena A. Botsford, Lily G. 


Mabel A. Knibloe, Sadie S 


Adeline LeRoy Buck, Norma Conkey, 

Alice B. Buck, Julia E 




Pupils— Ingleside School— Continued. 

Bessie G. Brown, 
Nellie M. Kimlin, 
Minnie S. Blinn, 

Alice N. Randall, 
Edith Florence, 
Laura H. Hill, 

Bessie N. Booth. 

Day Pupils. 

Bessie N. Booth. 
Adaline Iy. Buck. 
Alice B. Buck. 
Laura A. Hill. 
Nellie M. Kimlin. 
Caroline L. MacMahon 
Alice N. Randall. 

Ingleside Bicyclists. 

Bertha L. Barber. 
A. Florence Browning. 
Mabel D. Colvin. 
Emma Cooke. 
Elsie Jones. 
Augusta H. Knevals. 
Harriet McNeil. 
Helen P, Mulliken, 

Kate O. Pearson. 
Laura M. Post. 
Isabel N. Smith. 
Emily W. Sailer. 
Mildred Thorpe. 
Lillian W. Underhill. 
Augusta J. White, 

Ingleside Log. 

;.93, | 

'Q4. J 


Edith Warner, 

Jean Lee Hunt, 94, 

Miss Chareotte Boyer, Art Editor. 

Contributors to Log of '96. 

Isabel Nelson Smith, '97, 

Jean Lee Hunt, '94, 

Edith Warner, '93, 

Margaret Noyes, . 

Ethel Hopkins, 

A. Florence Browning, '97, 

Mildred Thorpe, 

Sophie Boucher, '98, 

Edith D. Bennett, '96, 

Lillian Underhill, '97, 

Helen Hunt, '95, 

Edwinna Hammond, '98, 

Elsie Jones, 

Laura Post, '97, . 

Harriet McNeil, '98, . 

Janet Knap, '98, 

Helen Mulliken, 

May Hewitt, 

Anna E. Fletcher, '97, 

The Studio 

The Studio 

The Studio 

The Cuckoo 

The Cuckoo 

The Studio 

The Cuckoo 

The Cuckoo 

New Milford 

The Studio 

The Studio 

The Hall 

The Cuckoo 

The Studio 

The Hall 

The Hall 

The Cuckoo 

Hickory Hearth 

The Hall 



Contributors to Log Of '96— Continued. 

Lena Thompson, '97, 
Susie Nelson, '97, 
Winnibil Clarke, '97, 
Florence Hammond, 
Caroline Roberts, '98, 
Mabel Colvin, 
Bmma Cooke, 
Evangeline Cape, 
Emily W. Sailer, 
Augusta J. White, 
Mabel A. Knibloe, 
Lena Botsford, 
Kate 0. Pearson, 
Julie McNeil, 
Isabel White, 
Augusta H. Knevals, . 
Alice Bliss, 

The Hall 

The Hall 

The Studio 

The Cuckoo 

The Cuckoo 

The Robin 

The Hall 

The Hall 

The Robin 

The Studio 

New Milford 

New Milford 

The Robin 

The Robin 

Hickory Hearth 

The Studio 

The Studio 


October — .Golden Rod, 

November — Falling Leaves, 

December — The First Snow, 

January — Skating, 

February — ' ' Exams, ' ' 

March — Church Spire, 

April — The Return of the Birds, 

May — May Flowers, 

The Organ, . 

Corner of Studio, 

Afternoon Tea in Attic Studio, . 


A. L. Buck 
Lillian Underhill 
Pauline Otis 
R. S. Knowles 
Alma Lyons 
R. S. Knowles 
Flora F. Hewitt 
R. S. Knowles 
. R. S. Knowles 
R. S. Knowles 
Jean Swords and Alice Randall 
A, L> Buck 



Contributors to Log Of '96— Continued. 

Illustrations— Continued. 

Vacation, .... 



All Saints Church, 

The Lighting of Fire at Hickory Hearth, 

Cheese Roasting, 

Story time, 

"Bon Voyage," . 

'"96," .... 

Lillian Underhill 

Flora F. Hewitt 

R. S. Knowles 

Adaline L. Buck 

. R. S. Knowles 

Mildred Thorpe 

Edith Florence 

Lillian Underhill 


Mabel Colvin, 
Anna Fletcher, 


furnished by 

Clara Carnahan, 
Lena Thompson. 












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